


Now I Know My Life Is Sweetening

by poetzproblem



Series: Don't Blink [31]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fababy Talk, Family Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching Rachel finally throw herself into planning for their family is so incredibly wonderful that Quinn just wants to grab her hand and race headfirst into their amazing future, but she keeps telling herself that if Rachel really needs her to slow all of this down again, she’ll be able to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something I Have Dreamed About

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Immediately following _It's the Life We're Living Now_ —or the _other one_ where they talk about babies a lot (and how to go about making those babies). Warning for medical jargon and some simplification of the IVF process.
> 
> There will be seven short parts with alternating pov.
> 
> As always, thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being an awesome beta.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Glee_ or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

_Everything in a moment starting where_  
_Something you said is hanging in the air_  
_Now I know my life is sweetening_  
_Changing everything_  
_~Something That You Said, The Bangles_

* * *

**Part I: Something I Have Dreamed About**

* * *

Rachel's fears about becoming a mother don't disappear. They're still there whispering in the back of her mind, but sharing them with Quinn has quieted them down enough for Rachel to hear all the joyful possibilities begin to sing out. Thoughts of beautiful little girls that look just like Quinn or handsome little boys that also look like Quinn—really, Quinn's features are very attractive on any gender—keep sneaking into her mind at the oddest of times, and Rachel wonders if Quinn has been entertaining these kinds of thoughts all along.

Much to her surprise, Quinn doesn't immediately push her into making those plans she'd promised they'd make, though she does mention signing up with some of the online apartment hunting sites and creating a customized search for a three bedroom.

"We can start with that," Quinn suggests with a hopeful smile. "Maybe in one of the better neighborhoods?"

Rachel frowns, wondering what Quinn considers _better_. Murray Hill isn't a _bad_ neighborhood after all—it's just more suited to college grads and young urban professionals than families. It's been close to perfect for the two of them these last four years, and so conveniently close to the theater district. Rachel thinks maybe they should be looking for something with a yard or near a park, but she'd also like to stay somewhere with suitable transportation to Midtown while she still has her show to consider.

But somewhere safe.

Preferably with decent schools.

And rich cultural opportunities.

That's still affordable.

Rachel realizes that the number of bedrooms is the least of their concerns and makes a mental note to begin researching crime statistics and school district ratings in the city, and while she's at it, she'll also need to research the fertility and family planning clinics in the vicinity to ensure that they choose one that's reputable and up to every applicable health code.

It occurs to her sometime during the hours that she's actually conducting this research that Quinn hadn't needed to push her at all—she'd only needed to give her a single, gentle nudge in exactly the right spot, knowing Rachel well enough to expect that's all it would take to send her careening at high speeds into internet searches and spreadsheets and maps and charts and graphs.

It's a spreadsheet that she tosses down on the coffee table in front of Quinn one morning seven days after they'd agreed to start making plans. Quinn's fingers grow still on the keys of her laptop as she peeks up over the screen, lifting a curious eyebrow. "What's that?" she questions, closing her laptop and moving it to the side as she leans forward to pick up the papers in front of her.

"I made a list of the local fertility centers that offer insemination, ranked by success rating and general consumer satisfaction," Rachel explains as she settles onto the sofa next to Quinn, watching her wife's stunned gaze fly to hers. "I thought we could…you know," she waves her hand in the direction of her spreadsheet, "start making a few of those decisions."

Clutching the papers tightly with one hand, Quinn reaches for Rachel with the other and tugs her into an ardent kiss. Rachel hums in surprised pleasure as she kisses her wife back with enthusiasm, and she's still pleasantly dazed when Quinn finally allows her to come up for air. "Oh. That was nice," she murmurs appreciatively.

Quinn ghosts another brief kiss across her lips, far more chaste than the last. "I love that you did this."

"I'm trying to be more proactive," Rachel tells her—not at all opposed to receiving more of those kisses for her efforts.

Grinning happily, Quinn turns her attention back to the list in her hands. "Do they all offer IVF?" she asks as she browses through it.

_IVF?_

Rachel's brow furrows. "Why does that matter?" Unless Quinn thinks that she'll have a problem conceiving this time around, they shouldn't need to resort to in vitro. A frown pulls at her mouth as she considers _why_ Quinn might possibly think that, but to Rachel's knowledge, none of Quinn's doctors had ever mentioned anything specifically about potential infertility being a complication of her accident.

Quinn catches the corner of her lower lip between her teeth as she glances back at Rachel, gazing at her softly for a long moment before she shyly answers. "Because I want to use your egg."

The unexpected announcement takes Rachel by surprise, and she feels her eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

Taking a breath, Quinn tosses the spreadsheet back onto the coffee table before angling her body towards Rachel on the sofa. "I've been thinking a lot about this, Rach. I want this baby to be _ours_ ," she says, reaching out to clasp Rachel's hand, "as much as it can be, anyway," she clarifies, "and if I'm actually carrying _your_ child, then the baby really will be part of us both, and you'll feel more connected to the pregnancy."

Rachel tries to wrap her mind around what Quinn is suggesting. "Quinn, baby…it's…I love that you want to do that," she stammers, recognizing the part of her that is undeniably tickled by the notion, "but it isn't necessary. It will still be our baby even if it's genetically yours."

And Quinn has really wonderful genes, even when she's frowning—like she is right now. "But I want it to be genetically _yours_ , Rachel," she insists stubbornly. "I know you're still afraid that you won't have enough time for our family, and we both want to make certain that we don't make the same mistakes our parents made. I honestly believe we're going to be the best moms," Quinn promises with a grin, "but there's still a chance this baby might end up being be our only child, and I already have a daughter in this world who has half my DNA," she points out, her smile blossoming as she continues to gaze at Rachel with her heart in her eyes. "The world needs a little _you_ so much more than it needs another Fabray."

"Some people might disagree," Rachel mutters, attempting to push away the memories of the insults flung at her during her formative years that were intended to make her believe that even _one_ of her in the world was one too many.

Quinn's smile softens. " _I_ need a little you," she amends sweetly.

That's all it really takes to disintegrate Rachel's unpleasant memories into dust, and her heart makes a valiant attempt to soar right out of her chest—but _no_. No! A little Quinn will be so much better. "I just…I don't want you to have to go through all that extra hassle when a simple insemination procedure would be so much easier."

Quinn's smile fades away slowly as she sits back, letting Rachel's hand slip out of hers. "Hassle," she repeats incredulously. "You think my wanting to have your baby is a _hassle_?"

And okay—it's possible that Rachel hadn't phrased that in the most prudent way. "I didn't mean it like that…exactly."

Quinn huffs. "No, I understand you perfectly," she bites out, angling her body away from Rachel as she picks up the spreadsheet again, staring down at it with a frown. "If you have to give in and agree to have a baby with me, you want to make it as little an inconvenience to yourself as possible." Rachel's eyes widen at the accusation, and her mouth opens to log a protest, but Quinn is already rushing off into a bitchy rant. "I mean, I don't even really need you at all, do I? I can just go pick out a sperm donor and knock myself up," she exclaims with a bitter laugh. "Or…hey…maybe I'll just give Puck a call. He'd probably be happy to help me out again."

Rachel gasps in indignation at the mere suggestion, crossing her arms angrily. "That's really uncalled for, Quinn!" The very idea of any part of Noah Puckerman going anywhere near her wife in that way ever again makes her want to scream.

Quinn sighs, dropping the spreadsheet onto to the table again before falling back against the sofa. "I'm sorry," she says earnestly, turning to Rachel with a contrite expression on her face. "I just…I want to do this for us, Rachel…have our baby," she clarifies as if there might still be a question as to what they're discussing, "but I also don't want it to feel like it's _only_ me doing this. That was pretty much my entire pregnancy with Beth," she admits with a sad smile. "One quick, forgettable moment of awkward discomfort with Puck followed by nine months of dealing with everything on my own."

Understanding washes over Rachel, but, "I'm not Noah," she reminds Quinn emphatically. "I'm nothing like him, Quinn. I want to be there for you. I want to support you." Despite her own lingering fears about motherhood, Rachel so very much wants to provide Quinn with everything she hadn't been able to have at sixteen. "But it doesn't need to be my child you're carrying for it to be _ours_."

Quinn studies her for a long moment in silence. "I really thought you'd be onboard with this. It's kind of how your dads had you."

"That was different," Rachel insists, feeling her cheeks begin to heat a little. "All they had to do was," she pauses, lifting a hand before she realizes any gesture she might make with it wouldn't be appropriate for this particular conversation, "well, you know. They could do that at home," she dismisses, wrinkling her nose as she tries not to think too deeply on exactly _how_ her dads had gone about mixing up their _stuff_. "What you're proposing is a lot more complicated, Quinn. Not to mention expensive."

A familiar, pale eyebrow arches in challenge. "You're putting a price tag on creating our family?"

"It's a factor," Rachel has to admit. There's no denying that opting for artificial insemination would be significantly less expensive than in vitro. "But I'm more concerned about the risk. You're proposing an invasive procedure that we'd both have to endure after taking fertility drugs. That's a lot of undue stress to put our bodies through, and there's no guarantee it would even work."

Quinn frowns, but it's clear from her expression that she's reluctantly considering the logic in Rachel's reasoning. She doesn't need to know that a large part of Rachel's reasoning comes right back to her preference that their child have Quinn's genes because—well, Quinn's genes are so much prettier.

"There's no guarantee _anything_ will work, Rachel," Quinn finally allows, "but we'll never know unless we try."

"And if we end up disappointed?" Rachel challenges.

"Then we'll try the insemination," Quinn concedes.

"Or we could just try that first." Really, it would be so much simpler—and _yes_ , simpler for Rachel too. She absolutely intends to fully support Quinn when they finally embark on the journey to expand their family, but honestly, she'd rather avoid the exams and injections and poking and prodding and harvesting that would undoubtedly come with being Quinn's egg donor.

Quinn shakes her head in exasperation. "Isn't there even a little part of you that wants the baby to be yours?" she wonders with a thoughtful frown.

A _no_ dances on the tip of Rachel's tongue, formed by every old insecurity about her appearance that's ever plagued her, but deep down, she knows it's a lie. So many of those insecurities—even the ones that had been nurtured by Quinn herself in the stupidity of youth—have slowly been beaten down into submission by the way Quinn looks at her now, the way her eyes and hands and lips have worshiped Rachel's body, the way Rachel can turn her on with just a look, and the way Quinn makes her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

And okay—it's not just Quinn. Her more ardent fans and a few of her exes and Teresa and Josie and even Santana have all contributed to the wonderful balm to Rachel's self-esteem over the years.

Her _professional_ vanity, on the other hand, has never needed much of a boost. So, "Of course there is," Rachel acknowledges. "You know I have a very healthy ego, Quinn." And even though Quinn's genes are undeniably prettier, Rachel's are undoubtedly filled to the brim with talent just waiting to be unleashed on the world. It's only natural that Rachel would feel a certain urge to pass that on. "But you make such beautiful babies. Beth is proof of that. Maybe…maybe I want our child to look like you," she confesses, refusing to mention her reluctance to pass on some of her less desirable physical traits (like her nose) that's all mixed up in her genuine desire to see another piece of Quinn alive in the world.

Oblivious to Rachel's thoughts, Quinn smiles tenderly. "And I want her to look like you. So what do we do about that?"

Rachel shrugs. "Find a Jewish donor."

Quinn's brows furrow slightly. "I wasn't actually serious about asking Puck."

"Good," Rachel snaps with an exaggerated scowl, "because I'd never agree to that. As much as I adore Beth, you're not mixing your genes with Noah Puckerman's ever again."

Quinn laughs at that. "Whatever you say, sweetheart," she agrees easily as she reaches for Rachel's hand again, but soon enough her smile is growing wistful. "You know, whenever I imagine our daughter, she looks just you…all dark hair and big brown eyes and the sweetest voice."

"We could have a boy," Rachel counters.

Quinn shrugs. "He mostly looks like you too."

Smiling at Quinn's stubbornness, Rachel silently admits that she won't actually mind if their child has dark hair. She was actually thinking of adding that to the list of required traits for their donor (along with musical ability and above-average intelligence), but she's really hoping for Quinn's eyes—and her chin, her cheekbones, and (it goes without saying) her nose. She's obviously aware that Quinn has had some work done in that regard, but only because she'd crashed her bicycle into a fence and broken her nose when she was six. It admittedly hadn't healed well, but Judy has shown Rachel all of Quinn's baby pictures, so she knows how perfectly adorable Quinn had been even with her original nose.

"We can find a donor who looks like me," Rachel suggests amenably, but probably not _too much_ like her.

"But he won't _be_ you," Quinn protests with a pout, sullenly picking at the edge of the sofa cushion with a blunt fingernail.

"Quinn…it…it's scary enough bringing a child into this world, but to do it the way you want," Rachel trails off, feeling the familiar weight of anxiety start to press down on her chest once again. She absently rubs at it with her free hand.

"Why is that scarier?" Quinn asks curiously.

"For one thing, the chance of multiple births is higher," Rachel points out, and if becoming a mother to one baby is still kind of terrifying then the possibility of two at once is downright crippling. She'd never have time for anything! Then there's the extra stress that a multiple pregnancy would put on the mother, and Rachel wouldn't be able to bear it if anything were to happen to Quinn—or their babies. "And…and I think the risk for miscarriages is higher too," she mentions quietly, her stomach clenching at the thought of fully investing herself in a pregnancy only to lose it.

"Actually, the risk of that is about the same as conceiving naturally," Quinn corrects her gently. "It really only increases with the mother's age."

Rachel swallows heavily. "You've been doing research," she realizes.

Quinn flashes her a mischievous grin. "Of course." She sobers then, holding Rachel's troubled gaze with serious eyes. "There is a slightly higher risk of ectopic pregnancies," she relays somewhat grudgingly, "but it's pretty low overall, and I'm willing to take the risk…to go through all of the extra work…if it means I get to carry your baby." With that, Quinn is smiling again—soft and dreamy. "A part of you to love and nurture. Can you understand how wonderful that would make this pregnancy for me?"

Rachel _does_ understand. She knows Quinn's first pregnancy had been anything but wonderful for her, and she can see how much Quinn wants this experience to be everything the first wasn't. And there's a part of Rachel that knows Quinn might be right about them only having one child. Even planning for this one feels incredibly overwhelming to her, and she suspects that will only intensify once Quinn is actually pregnant. Right now, Rachel can't even begin to imagine ever feeling ready to undertake a pregnancy of her own, and she'd never ask Quinn to do this a third time. What Quinn is offering to do for her now may well be Rachel's one and only chance to ever have a biological child—and that would make Quinn's pregnancy kind of wonderful for her too.

Terrifying.

But also wonderful.

"It means more doctor's appointments and drugs and…and it will probably take longer for us to be successful," Rachel warns her wife, hardly believing that she's even entertaining the notion.

"I was under the impression that you weren't in any particular hurry for me to actually get pregnant before next year," Quinn muses with a grin.

Rachel glances away sheepishly. "Well…I…I haven't been, _no_." And really, the likelihood that Quinn will actually conceive before next year is highly improbable, especially if Rachel agrees to try the IVF. "But my show seems like it might enjoy a decent run, so next fall is starting to look like a good time for me to take a little break."

She can still try her hand at songwriting and start working on an album while she's supporting Quinn and learning how to be a mother. If she's going to take this leap, it's probably best not to drag it out for too long and give herself the extra time to panic. Once Quinn is actually pregnant, there'll be nowhere for Rachel to go but forward.

Quinn's smile gets wider. "The fall sounds perfect."

Quinn's happiness is infectious, and Rachel wages an internal debate against her better judgment. Insemination would be so much easier—not to mention safer and cheaper. They'd just need to worry about finding an appropriate donor.

But Quinn's happiness is priceless.

"We'll need to set a limit," Rachel insists, caving right in to the hope in those beloved hazel eyes, "financially and…and on the number of times we're prepared to…to try before we pursue other options." She's not willing to compromise on that part. Rachel can agree to try it Quinn's way first, but she suspects that there are only so many disappointments they'll be able to endure before it would break them.

"Yes. We can absolutely do that," Quinn agrees readily, nodding her head. Her enthusiasm is palpable, and Rachel feels her own mouth curving into a smile at the sight. Really, when Rachel takes a moment to think about this in the context of their entire relationship, it's kind of amazing that Quinn Fabray wants to have Rachel Berry's baby so badly. It really does wonders for her ego.

"And we need to make an appointment with Doctor Barnes. This entire thing might not even be medically feasible. I mean, it's kind of an odd request when you have perfectly healthy ovaries."

Quinn bites into her smile almost guiltily. "I already have an appointment scheduled."

Rachel gapes at her. "You've been making plans without me?" she accuses with a trace of hurt in her voice. For all of Quinn's talk about doing this together, she'd apparently taken a fairly important step without consulting Rachel first.

"I've been conducting research," Quinn counters, "just like you have," she notes, gesturing to the spreadsheet that Rachel had made. And okay, Rachel hadn't exactly included Quinn in that either, but after Rachel had dragged her heels for so long on planning for their family, she'd wanted to surprise her wife and prove that she really is committed to this thing.

"I thought it would be a good idea to get a general checkup and discuss our options with my doctor," Quinn continues, "so I called her office yesterday afternoon to see if she could squeeze me in in the next month or two. They happened to have an opening next Thursday."

"But you didn't tell me," Rachel whines, crossing her arms.

"I just scheduled it yesterday," Quinn repeats slowly. "And I was going to mention it. I…I guess I didn't want it to seem like I was pressuring you more than I already have," she confesses guiltily, "so I've been trying to ease us into everything."

Well, that certainly explains the lack of further discussion they'd been having on the subject of babies until today, but, "Quinn, baby, casually telling me you want to use my egg isn't easing into anything."

"I got excited," Quinn admits with a blush, pointing to Rachel's spreadsheet again. "I mean, you've been doing research, and you made a spreadsheet. And you looked so proud of it," she coos with an indulgent grin.

Rachel huffs, crossing her arms. "I _was_. But now I'll obviously have to re-catalogue everything according to their rating for IVF procedures," she grumbles. Hours of work—rendered practically void by Quinn's desire to hijack Rachel's DNA.

Chuckling, Quinn slides closer and slips her arms around Rachel. "We could do it together," she suggests, nuzzling Rachel's cheek.

Rachel closes her eyes and lets herself melt into her wife. Her fears seem to slip just a little further away at the promise that they'll be doing this together—at least for the moment.

_xx_

Quinn's doctor's appointment is Thursday morning, and Rachel fidgets on the taxi ride and in the waiting room and in the exam room. Quinn instructs her to calm down more than once, growing increasingly exasperated with Rachel's nervousness, but Rachel can't seem to find her inner peace. Her stomach is rolling and her leg is bouncing and a million thoughts are racing through her head.

What if Doctor Barnes finds something wrong? Granted, Quinn has been perfectly healthy up to this point, but one can never know when some unexpected (and unwelcome) complication will rise up and smack them over the head.

Quinn's primary care physician, Doctor Wolters, had already given Quinn the greenlight for a potential pregnancy months ago—a fact that she'd sheepishly informed Rachel of shortly after telling her about this appointment. _"I needed to be sure there wouldn't be any health risks before I even suggested carrying our baby to you,"_ she'd explained before going on to reassure Rachel that she hadn't, in fact, suffered any long term injuries from her car accident that would directly impede her from conceiving or carrying a child. But Rachel was conscious enough of her phrasing and aware enough of how Quinn's old injuries still affect her at times to understand that undertaking a pregnancy now will most certainly not be as easy for her as it had been when she was sixteen. They both know that Quinn is probably going to be suffering a little more with backaches and leg pains than most women do in the later stages of pregnancy.

But if Doctor Barnes finds some reason to think that Quinn can't (or shouldn't) conceive at all—well, Rachel doesn't want to think about that, because she can't be the one to get pregnant right now. She just _can't_. And then Quinn will be disappointed all over again, and Rachel can't bear for Quinn to be disappointed.

When Doctor Barnes finally enters the room, Rachel nearly jumps out of her chair to greet the woman, and Quinn rolls her eyes, staying seated on the exam table since she's clad only in her very unattractive paper gown. "You'll have to forgive Rachel. She's a little hyper today," Quinn explains, and the doctor smiles knowingly.

Doctor Amanda Barnes is an attractive, lanky woman in her early fifties with black hair shot through with a streak of gray just to the left of her widow's peak. She has kind, brown eyes and a soft voice, and Rachel has been seeing her for all of her womanly issues since she moved to New York to attend NYADA. Rachel had referred Quinn to her four years later when she'd settled in the city, so Doctor Barnes is intimately familiar with them both, and (unfortunately) she knows exactly how hyper Rachel can be.

"So I understand you're thinking about trying to conceive," she begins after the standard pleasantries have been exchanged, although the small talk is slightly abbreviated this morning.

"Yes," Quinn answers, unable to contain her smile. "I want to make sure everything is okay physically before we get started and maybe ask a few questions about our options."

Doctor Barnes nods in understanding. "Have you discussed this with your primary care physician as well?" she asks, already being generally aware of the injuries that Quinn had sustained as a teenager.

"I have," Quinn assures her. "He only has some minor concerns about the pain levels in my lower back and leg in the latter half of the pregnancy, but otherwise, he doesn't think there should be any health problems for me. I think I can handle a little discomfort."

An invisible fist tightens around Rachel's heart at the thought of Quinn in any kind of pain. "It might be more than a little," she points out with a frown as she begins to mindlessly twist her wedding rings around her finger. Quinn can be so very stubborn, and there are so many times when she pushes herself farther or faster than she should and ends up paying for it in pain and stiff joints. Rachel is probably going to have to tie her down to a chair for nine months to keep her from overtaxing her body.

"I'll be fine, Rachel," Quinn promises, offering her a reassuring smile.

Rachel eyes her wife critically. "I'd rather hear Doctor Barnes tell us that."

The aforementioned doctor chuckles. "Obviously, I can't offer an accurate assessment until after I've conducted the examination today," she explains to Rachel before returning her gaze to Quinn, "but based on your prior history, there hasn't been any reason to think that conception would be a problem for you. And if your physical discomfort is the only medical concern your PCP has, then I would see nothing to prevent you from carrying a pregnancy to term, assuming that everything checks out today." She slips her stethoscope out of her pocket with a warm smile. "So what do you say we take a look?"

With a firm nod, Quinn lies back on the exam table, and Rachel tries to keep from fidgeting too noticeably while she watches Doctor Barnes conduct her examination—eyes intent on the older woman's face in search of any wrinkle in her brow or downward turn of her lips to indicate a concern.

The sensation of being watched herself eventually registers in Rachel's consciousness, so she pulls her attention away from the doctor to meet sparkling, hazel eyes. Pink lips curve into a soft smile, and just seeing it helps calm some of Rachel's nervous tension. Quinn moves her left arm away from her stomach where it's been resting and lets it fall over the edge of the exam table, silently reaching out to Rachel with an open palm. Rachel finds herself perching on the edge of her chair and slipping her own hand into Quinn's without hesitation, caught up in her hopeful gaze.

How Quinn manages to still look stunning in stirrups and a paper gown will forever be a mystery to Rachel.

She wonders if it's possible to talk Quinn out of using her egg, because really, there's no way Rachel could ever look quite as lovely as her wife. She has the ability to take Rachel's breath away, even in this less than romantic setting, just by looking at her with so much love in her eyes.

Then again, having a miniature Quinn would almost certainly ensure that Rachel would spoil their child rotten and cave into every demand and generally be exactly the kind of indulgent, overly-permissive mother that she's terrified of becoming.

The snap of latex has Rachel jerking back into awareness, and her eyes fly back to Doctor Barnes to see her peeling off her gloves and tossing them into the nearby trashcan. "All done," she announces with kind smile. "You can go ahead and sit up, Quinn."

Rachel is out of her chair and standing by Quinn's side in an instant, gently helping her to sit up, much to Quinn's amusement if her small grin is any indication. "So what's the verdict?" Quinn asks in a deceptively laidback manner, but Rachel can feel the muted apprehension thrumming through her body in the way that Quinn's hand is clinging tightly to hers.

"Everything looks good," Doctor Barnes assures them. "We'll send your pap smear off to the lab to be certain, but there were no abnormalities last year so I don't expect there to be any problems now. I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to conceive and carry without complication."

Quinn exhales in relief at the pronouncement, squeezing Rachel's hand and flashing a triumphant smile. Rachel wishes she could return it, but the sense of relief she feels at Quinn's clean bill of health is still twisted up with a healthy dose of fear at the confirmation that there are no obstacles in the way of them having a baby except—well, _her fear_.

"Of course, I can't speak to your overall fertility at this point in the process," Doctor Barnes cautions them.

A self-deprecating smile curves Quinn's lips. "Well, I managed to get pregnant the first and only time I had sex with a guy, so I don't really think that will be a problem."

"But you were much younger then, Quinn," Rachel reminds her, not wanting her wife to set her expectations too high.

"Gee, thanks, Rach," Quinn drawls with a reproachful frown.

Doctor Barnes stifles a chuckle at their exchange. "Rachel does actually bring up a valid point, Quinn," she says with a sympathetic smile. "Age can certainly have an impact on a woman's ability to conceive, but you're still young and healthy overall, so I don't foresee that being a concern for you at this time. Now, I'm assuming you probably have some questions about how to go about creating your family?" she asks tactfully.

Rachel has always appreciated Doctor Barnes's easy acceptance of her LGBTQ patients. She hadn't batted an eyelash when she'd discovered that Rachel had started dating Quinn—Rachel may have made a point of telling her all about it when the subject of her sexual activity and the question of whether she still needed to worry about a birth control prescription had arisen. Doctor Barnes had merely congratulated her and told her she thought they would make a wonderful couple.

"We do," Quinn confirms.

"I actually have a list of potential fertility clinics that are reputable," Rachel informs her, quickly slipping away from Quinn's side to retrieve it from her purse, "if you wouldn't mind giving us your opinion on each them."

"A list?" Doctor Barnes echoes warily as Rachel pulls out the paper and unfolds it before handing over to the doctor. "That's…very organized," she concedes as she stares down at the list now in her hand.

"Or you could just tell us if you recommend a specific facility," Quinn interrupts hastily, "or a doctor who specializes in in vitro fertilization."

Doctor Barnes immediately looks up from the list she's perusing (because she is an excellent doctor and has always treated all of Rachel's concerns and suggestions with the gravity they deserve) to glance between Quinn and Rachel with interest. "Are you thinking of trying reciprocal IVF then?"

"Yes," Quinn tells her with a wide smile, obviously pleased that their doctor is already familiar with the procedure. Rachel had stumbled over the exact terminology for what Quinn wants to do when she'd been researching clinics and discovered that it isn't actually as uncommon as she'd first thought.

Doctor Barnes nods thoughtfully. "There are a fair number of clinics in the area that offer it as part of their LGBTQ family building programs."

"But they all offer artificial insemination, correct?" Rachel asks, doing her best to ignore the sharp look of censure that Quinn sends in her direction. They need to be realistic about their options if the IVF doesn't work for them.

"They do," Doctor Barnes assures them. "Intrauterine insemination is still by far the more prevalent option, but reciprocal IVF is certainly growing in popularity with female couples who want to share in their pregnancy more equally. So it's certainly something you'll be able to pursue if you so desire."

"We do," Quinn answers firmly.

Doctor Barnes nods again. "In that case, I highly recommend Doctor Rosaline Klein. She's a reproductive endocrinologist associated with Chelsea Fertility. In fact, that would be the clinic I'd probably recommend for an insemination as well. The clinic will likely be able to recommend one of the reputable sperm banks in the area, and of course, you also have the option of asking someone you know."

Rachel frowns thoughtfully at that bit of information, having not really considered it as an option outside of Quinn's terrible joke about asking Noah.

"And Rachel, since you just had your yearly three months ago, I don't think you need to worry about making another appointment with me, but you should be aware that Doctor Klein will likely want to conduct a medical screening for you as well if you ultimately decide to donate your egg to Quinn."

Rachel nods a little dazedly at the woman as Quinn squeezes her hand.

"Whatever decisions you make," Doctor Barnes continues, "I would advise speaking with a good attorney specializing in family law if you haven't already, in regards to both the donor contract and to the laws regarding egg donation and gestational surrogacy."

Rachel’s head is swimming with the information—how is it possible that she hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might need a lawyer?—when Quinn mentions, "We actually know someone."

"We do?" Rachel asks, glancing at her wife in confusion. Quinn's eyebrow barely has the chance to inch up before Rachel realizes, "Oh…yes, of course we do." She feels a little foolish for having forgotten about Josie. Her specialty is family law, and even if she isn't able to take them on as clients, she'll certainly be able to refer them to someone suitable. Of course, that means they'll have to tell Josie what they're doing, and Rachel is still hesitant about that part in case they have problems conceiving.

"Good," Doctor Barnes murmurs in approval. "I'll make sure Vicki gives you Doctor Klein's contact information at the front desk. Just give us a call and let us know if and when you make the appointment so we can have a copy of your records sent," she informs them, holding out the list of clinics that Rachel had given her. "I'll give this back to you as well. Your top five are all excellent facilities, in case you'd like to do a little comparison shopping," she offers with a wink.

Rachel's cheeks heat just a little as she accepts the paper with a quiet, "Thank you, Doctor Barnes."

Quinn quickly voices her own gratitude, seeking out Rachel's hand with her own, before Doctor Barnes slips out of the room to let Quinn get dressed.

"We're one step closer to starting our family, Rach," Quinn gushes, practically vibrating with excitement.

Rachel squeezes her hand and offers her a smile, hoping that it looks completely natural. She's not having second thoughts—she _not_!—but it's suddenly starting to feel like they're already racing out of the planning stages and into the actual doing. They've seen their doctor, and they're getting the name of a fertility specialist, and she just knows that Quinn is going to want to schedule an appointment at Chelsea Fertility for a consultation as soon as they can get one.

Apparently, her smile is genuine enough to have Quinn happily hopping down off the exam table and ripping away her paper gown with a grin. Rachel helpfully passes her clothes to her before sinking down into the chair to watch her wife dress—mentally focusing on the image of Quinn smiling at their baby and telling him bedtime stories to help keep her fears at bay.

When then get home, as expected, Quinn wants to call the clinic right away to schedule an appointment with Doctor Klein. "Just to get established with her and find out what we'll need to do," she promises, but Rachel can see the eagerness in her eyes. She tells Quinn to make the call, thinking that it will probably take months to get in, but somehow they end up with an appointment on September 19th—just over two weeks away.

"That's okay, isn't it?" Quinn asks cautiously.

Rachel swallows down her lingering nerves and reminds herself that it's just the first step in a long process. "Yes. Of course. Perfectly okay," she insists, cringing a little at the tiny edge of panic she can hear creeping into her voice.

Quinn scrapes her teeth over her lip as her eyes roam over Rachel's face. "I know I've been pushing pretty hard for this, Rach, but if you need us to slow down a little, then tell me now," she urges with a tiny frown. "We…we can wait a few more months to see Doctor Klein."

Rachel is tempted to take Quinn up on her reluctant offer, but she knows how much her wife wants this, and giving in to her fears again won't make either one of them happy in the long run, so she reaches for Quinn's hand and manages a reassuring smile. "We're keeping the appointment."

Quinn's smile is dazzling, and the kisses that follow are even better.

That night, after engaging in some vigorous baby-making practice despite the fact that neither one of them is properly equipped to make it happen for real, Rachel finds herself still awake while Quinn sleeps peacefully at her side. For the first time, she'd found herself entertaining the fleeting, impossible wish that she actually could get Quinn pregnant as they'd made love. It would certainly be so much simpler than what Quinn wants them to do, and maybe their future child might actually look a little like them _both._

With that thought still teasing at her mind, Rachel's gaze traces her wife's beloved features, admiring the way the moonlight from the window falls across her face and sets her hair aglow on the pillow, and the seeds of an idea begin to take root. Smiling to herself, she curls around Quinn's body and presses a soft kiss to her naked shoulder as she finally lets her eyes fall closed.

In her dreams, those seeds grow into a beautiful family tree.


	2. And It Feels So Right

**Part II: And It Feels So Right**

* * *

Quinn isn't completely naïve. She knows that Rachel is still nervous about starting their family, but being afraid of becoming a mother isn't the same as never wanting to be one. They've talked about this enough for Quinn to believe that, deep down, Rachel wants a child every bit as much as she does.

Oh, she'd had her doubts for a while. How could she not? Rachel had kept all of her innermost worries and fears about having children locked away from Quinn for so long, disguising them with easy and obvious excuses and delaying tactics. Quinn can't say it doesn't bother her that Rachel hadn't talked to her about everything sooner, but it's out in the open now, and she can deal with her wife's lingering fears because she fully believes that they'll all disappear the moment Rachel holds their baby in her arms.

Rachel probably doesn't realize it, but there's a certain look she gets—soft and filled with awe—whenever she mentions their future child. Granted, it's usually when she mentions their child in relation to _Quinn_ , but it's there, and it's a beautiful window into Rachel's heart every time Quinn has the pleasure of seeing it.

Quinn wants this. She wants it so badly, and maybe that's making her a little bit selfish, and maybe she does keep trying to gently nudge Rachel forward whenever she looks like she might be hesitating, but—she just can't seem to help herself! She'd honestly tried to be patient and not push Rachel into trying to conceive right away, but then Rachel had showed her that list of local clinics—all color-coded with little gold stars and cross-referenced to patient reviews—and how could Quinn resist?

Watching Rachel finally throw herself into planning for their family is so incredibly wonderful that Quinn just wants to grab her hand and race headfirst into their amazing future, but she keeps telling herself that if Rachel really needs her to slow all of this down again, she'll be able to do it.

So when Rachel interrupts their breakfast with a hesitant, "Quinn? I…I've been thinking," Quinn's eyes come up from her omelet to gaze warily at her wife, half-expecting her to announce that she's changed her mind about keeping the appointment at Chelsea Fertility. Instead, Rachel nervously licks her lips and grips the coffee cup between her hands just a little bit tighter. "About our options for…for choosing a potential donor."

And okay—Quinn was not expecting _that_ conversation this morning. "I thought we were just going with the sperm bank option."

"We could," Rachel agrees with a nod before taking a breath and exhaling it in a rush of words. "But you know how disastrous the whole ordeal with Shelby turned out to be for me, and while I obviously understand my dads' reasons for making her agree not to contact me until I was eighteen, I can't deny that I was always curious about my mother," she admits almost guiltily, "even before she decided to violate her contract and show up in my life. Sometimes I think if…if they'd just let Shelby have some contact with me from the beginning, maybe we'd have a better relationship now, and maybe I wouldn't have had so many questions and been so…so disappointed when I finally did meet her," she confesses in a small voice.

Quinn feels her heart break all over again for her wife and the emotional damage that Shelby's unexpected appearance and immediate disappearance had caused her. Because of that, it takes a moment for Quinn to fully comprehend just why Rachel is bringing up Shelby in relation to their potential sperm donor. When she does, she carefully lays her fork down across her plate. "Are you trying to say that you want to choose a donor who'll be involved in our child's life?" she asks with a frown, less than enamored with the idea.

"No, not _involved_ exactly," Rachel is quick to reassure. "I certainly don't want a third party to have any actual parental rights. I want our child to be ours and only ours," she vows, and Quinn has the pleasure of seeing that soft, awed expression briefly appear on Rachel's face again. "But I feel like we need to at least consider choosing a donor who would be open to being _known_. I mean, our child will inevitably be curious about the other half of his or her genetic makeup at some point, and a full medical history can't be anything but a benefit to everyone."

Quinn considers this for a moment before she sighs, admitting, "I can't exactly disagree with that." Especially the part about the medical history. It's been one of the things that's been concerning her the most about using an anonymous donor.

Rachel's lips pull into a small smile, and she shrugs. "I know some donors will sign an identity release in case their biological progeny eventually want to meet them, but they usually have to wait until they're eighteen…and…well, that's the same contract that Shelby had," she points out needlessly. "I think I might actually prefer to choose someone that we could point to from an early age and say, 'he helped us make you,' but who wouldn't be overly involved in our lives. But obviously, if you wouldn't feel comfortable with that, we could simply go the anonymous donor route."

"Honestly, I'm not sure if I'd be completely comfortable asking someone we know," Quinn confesses slowly, watching a shadow of disappointment fall across Rachel's hopeful expression.

Maybe it's a little hypocritical in light of her own relationship with Beth, but she really doesn't want to include another parent in the family that she dreams of creating with Rachel. If they were going to seriously consider this, they'd certainly have to make damned sure that they picked the right guy—someone who has no interest in being involved beyond an occasional _hello_.

"But I have been a little leery about choosing some unknown specimen out of a catalogue," Quinn admits with a shrug. "I mean, those guys could pretty much say anything on their applications."

Rachel nods vigorously. "Exactly. Some men do like to exaggerate their desirable qualities."

Quinn chuckles, knowing that to be true from her own past experiences. Of course, some women tend to do the same thing. "I guess there would be some definite positives to knowing exactly who we're getting," she concedes, slowly warming up to the idea of having all of the available information on the person who'll contribute half of their child's DNA, "and I obviously feel like Beth only benefits from being able to have a relationship with me and with Puck," although adoption is a very different animal than what she and Rachel are intending to do. Still, "It stands to reason that our child might benefit from at least knowing who his or her biological father is."

"So, you'll consider it?" Rachel prompts.

Quinn sits back in her chair, studying Rachel's face and finally taking note of that glint in her eyes that screams of some elaborate plot that she's secretly concocted. "You already have someone in mind, don't you?" she realizes.

Rachel's cheeks take on a pinkish tint. "You have been rather adamant about using my egg, unless you've suddenly reconsidered?" she checks almost hopefully.

"I haven't," Quinn insists firmly. She very much wants to carry _Rachel's_ baby and ensure that a little piece of her wife will continue on in this world long after they're gone.

Rachel nods again. "So I've recently been considering our options for choosing a donor that…well, looks like you."

Quinn's eyes narrow suspiciously. "I swear to God, if you suggest Peter…"

"No. Not Peter," Rachel denies instantly, "although he does have nice green eyes, and you do have similar temperaments…"

"Rachel," Quinn warns, not at all liking the idea of Rachel's ex-boyfriend having any part in creating their child. And okay—maybe she (not-so) secretly likes Peter Kendrick these days, but she'll never agree to consider him as a donor. He's been far too intimately acquainted with Rachel to be allowed that particular intimacy too.

"I was actually thinking we could ask Steven," Rachel suggests tentatively, and Quinn supposes that she really should have seen that coming. Even so, she can't quite manage to form an immediate response, and Rachel sucks in a nervous, little breath before hurriedly pointing out that, "The two of you really could be siblings. In retrospect, I think I probably dated him because he reminded me so much of you."

Quinn rolls her eyes at that, finally finding her words. "Yes, we know how oblivious you were once upon a time."

Steven and Peter had _both_ shared more than a few traits with Quinn—a truth that Rachel had finally woken up to years after the fact. It's occasionally amusing to Quinn now that she's Rachel's wife, but before their relationship had blossomed, it had been a pretty tender sore spot for her.

Honestly, the physical resemblance between Quinn and Steven Piper really is quite striking. He's a very attractive specimen of manhood with his blond hair, hazel eyes, and the strong jaw with just a hint of a cleft in his chin. His genes combined with Rachel's would be—well, they'd be pretty perfect, really. The obvious negative is that he's another one of Rachel's ex-boyfriends.

"Do you hate the idea?" Rachel asks with a concerned frown

Quinn takes a moment to consider her overall feelings on the matter. Steven might be Rachel's ex-boyfriend, but he'd never been an ex- _lover_. His sexuality had kept his brief, college relationship with Rachel from ever crossing that particular line. Quinn is a little surprised to find that the idea of asking him to do something like this doesn't bother her nearly as much as the idea of asking Peter, although she wonders if picking a gay sperm donor might be a little too cliché.

"I don't hate it," she finally admits, "but I am a little surprised you didn't suggest Kurt."

Rachel bites into her lip guiltily. "I briefly considered it," she confesses. "But Kurt is my best friend, and he's already such an important part of our life. I just…I feel like maybe we're _too_ close, you know? Whereas Steven is…" she trails off, shrugging.

"Safer," Quinn supplies knowingly.

Rachel nods. "I really don't want to ask someone who'll be too involved with us or with our child. Steven is a friend, and he's discrete, but he's never been someone we see regularly."

"And he spends half his time in Los Angeles these days."

"Exactly," Rachel confirms with a pleased grin. "So will you consider it?"

When it comes right down to it, the decision isn't very hard for Quinn to make. After all, Rachel is agreeing to donate her egg because Quinn wants their baby to look like her, so Quinn can hardly deny her wife's request for a donor that looks so much like Quinn. And the fact that Rachel is thinking about this at all—that she's voicing her own desires when it comes to how they'll conceive their baby—makes Quinn so very happy.

Quinn moistens her lips before smiling at her wife. "Do you think Steven would agree?"

Rachel's grin widens. "I don't know, but we can certainly ask him."

Quinn nods. "We should probably talk to Josie sooner rather than later," she suggests. "We need to make sure we'll have an ironclad contract in place if Steven actually agrees."

Rachel's grin slips. "I…I was hoping we wouldn't have to…to share all of this with our friends just yet."

"You don't want to tell anyone we're starting a family?" Quinn asks with a frown, feeling a knot of disappointment begin to form in her stomach at Rachel's desire for secrecy.

"I realize that Santana already knows we've been talking about it, but…it just feels like telling everyone before there's really anything to tell might just be adding stress to the situation," Rachel explains carefully. "I mean, they'll start asking how it's going or if there's any news yet…and…and if there isn't," she trails off, shaking her head with a pensive frown. "This is probably going to take a while, Quinn. I know we managed to get an appointment with Doctor Klein remarkably quickly, but…fertility treatments can take months."

"I know that, Rachel."

"I don't want us to feel pressured by friends and family while we're doing this," Rachel declares quietly, staring down into her coffee cup as she slowly spins it between her hands.

"You're probably right," Quinn concedes after a long moment. "We don't want to get anyone's hopes up but our own."

She hasn't forgotten the promise that she'd made to Rachel to set a limit on the number of times they'll try the in vitro before they consider another option. She doesn't really want to think about the possibility that they might not succeed, but she knows it really is wiser not to make any big announcements until they're certain they have something to celebrate.

"And we won't have to deal with anyone's disappointments but our own," Rachel adds solemnly, lifting her eyes.

Quinn is really hoping there won't _be_ any disappointments to deal with. "We'll still need to talk to Josie," she insists, "as our attorney, not our friend," she clarifies.

Rachel presses her lips together in a cute pout. "It's a very blurred line, Quinn."

"Just think how lucky we are that Santana didn't go into obstetrics," Quinn points out with a smile that turns into a full-out laugh when Rachel grimaces adorably.

After Quinn cleans up the remnants of their breakfast, Rachel decides to call Steven and ask what his schedule looks like in the next few weeks. He tells her that he'll be in New York filming scenes for his television series until the end of next month, but then he'll be flying to Los Angeles to start work on a film in November. Rachel immediately invites him to lunch the following Monday. "To catch up," she tells him, shrugging when Quinn raises an eyebrow.

They slip back into their normal routine for the rest of the week. Rachel focuses on her show in the evenings and through the weekend while Quinn continues to work on her newest book in addition to keeping up with her copy-editing job, but Quinn's mind keeps drifting to the talk they're going to have with Steven and how Rachel will feel if he refuses.

Quinn mostly thinks she could still be content with an anonymous donor who signs an identity release, but she has a feeling that Rachel will continue to want someone they can introduce their child to if he or she ever has any questions. Asking Peter is still a definite _no_ as far as Quinn is concerned, so she tries to think of acquaintances other than Kurt who might say _yes_. There's Brian, but he has dark hair. Harry does too, and as long as he's in a relationship with Kurt, he's still a little too close to _family_ already. Jason's wife would probably never let him agree. Jesse is—just _no_. Sam Evans eventually comes to mind, but Quinn isn't sure that Rachel would approve of one of _her_ exes, even if Quinn _had_ reaffirmed her vow of celibacy while she'd been dating him.

When Monday eventually rolls around, Quinn puts those thoughts on hold and focuses on preparing lunch for their guest, trotting out Teresa's Mexican bruschetta recipe as an appetizer to a zesty vegetable penne (for Rachel) with optional grilled chicken (for Steven and Quinn). Meanwhile, Rachel paces around the living room, rearranging photos and knickknacks on the shelves and restacking magazines on the coffee table.

Shaking her head at her wife's nervous antics, Quinn pads into the room and pushes aside the magazines that Rachel had fussed over five times already so that she can set out the bruschetta on the coffee table. She has every intention of pulling Rachel down onto the sofa and attempting to get her to relax, but before she can, there's a sharp knock on their door that has Rachel racing across the room to answer it.

The door opens to reveal Steven in faded jeans, a fitted blue t-shirt that shows off his muscled physique, and a Yankees baseball hat pulled low over his eyes. "Hello, gorgeous," he greets Rachel with a grin before he slips off his hat and swoops down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Rachel accepts the kiss with a smile, lifting a hand to pat his chest. "It's good to see you, Steven. We're so glad you could make it."

"I'm always glad to see my two favorite ladies," he says, stepping into the apartment while Rachel closes the door behind him. He grins at Quinn, tossing his hat onto the nearby table and running a hand through his short, blond hair to artfully tousle it.

Quinn smiles and shakes her head. "You mean we rank above Gabriella?" she teases, angling her chin to accept the kiss he feels compelled to place on her cheek. As far as the world at large knows, Steven is still hot and heavy with up-and-coming actress, Gabriella Grace, and according to the rumor mill, they're either secretly engaged or will be soon.

He chuckles warmly as he pulls back. "Don't tell her. It's a secret."

"As are most things in your life," Quinn points out, feeling a little sorry for him. She's all too aware of how easily Rachel could have decided to take the same road and hide her relationship with Quinn in the closet for the sake of safeguarding her career. Instead, she'd chosen to live openly and honestly and trust that her talent and perseverance will keep her career from stalling at the hands of homophobic producers and casting directors. So far, they've been pretty lucky.

"The sad price of fame and outrageous fortune, I'm afraid," Steven acknowledges theatrically before he glances back at Rachel with an arched eyebrow—yet another similar trait he shares with Quinn. "You're not attempting to stage an intervention, are you?"

"Would it work?" Rachel asks seriously. "Because I know a few very attractive men I could introduce you to."

Steven laughs. "I don't have a problem meeting men, Rachel," he assures her with a sly grin, "or convincing them to sign those wonderful, little NDAs."

A frustrated huff passes Rachel's lips, and Quinn chuckles. "Don't mind Rachel," she tells Steven, sinking down onto the sofa and crossing her legs. "She fancies herself a matchmaker now."

Steven is still smiling as he takes a seat in the adjacent arm chair. "Does she?"

"I'll have you know that I am responsible for no less than two very successful relationships," Rachel informs Steven haughtily as she sits next to Quinn. "Three if you count Peter and Aileen."

"Which I don't," Quinn counters, frowning at the reminder that her editor has been involved with Peter for the last year.

"They met at our wedding," Rachel reminds her.

"But you didn't introduce them," Quinn argues.

Rachel flashes a self-satisfied smile. "No, _you_ did."

"Don't remind me," Quinn grumbles. It had been a perfectly innocent introduction right after everyone had danced to "Hava Nagila"—Quinn had only been thinking they might share some literary interests. Peter had even taken another woman as his date to their wedding, for heaven's sake!

Steven grins in obvious amusement at their exchange. "You did introduce Gabriella to Jessica though," he reminds Rachel helpfully.

Quinn suppresses a snort at the cute scowl on her wife's face. She knows how badly all of Rachel's romantic feathers are ruffled by those casual hookups the two women share (that Rachel and Quinn aren't actually supposed to know about but do because Jessica and Rachel are freinds and Jessica still loves to talk about her conquests, NDAs or not) whenever Gabriella is in New York.

"I did," Rachel admits reluctantly, "but they don't count since," she dismisses with a wave of her hand, "well…whatever their arrangement actually is can hardly be considered a successful relationship when you and Gabriella are still…publically entangled," she finishes tactfully.

"We prefer to think of it as mutually symbiotic," Steven corrects with humor.

Quinn snorts, rolling her eyes. "You mean mutual bearding."

"Call it what you will," Steven allows with a resigned shrug. "But I know you didn't invite me here just to criticize my public persona." The words aren't said with any bite—Steven accepts who he is and what he's doing to get ahead in the Hollywood game.

Rachel sends a nervous glance in Quinn's direction before moistening her lips. "No. We didn't."

Steven nods, leaning forward to help himself to a piece of the bruschetta. "So, care to enlighten me? Not that I'm not delighted to be here, of course," he clarifies with a boyish grin, leaning back in his chair, "but you have to admit, I don't typically get a private invitation from you. I'm more the invite-your-celebrity-friend-to-your-dinner- party-to-impress-your-guests guest," he points out good-naturedly before taking a bite of the morsel in his hand.

"We don't do that," Rachel insists before flushing mildly. "Often."

"We don't do that at all," Quinn amends easily. If they don't invite him to their apartment all that often, it's only because he's been ridiculously busy between his new television series and his burgeoning film career and occasional forays back to the stage, so they usually end up touching base on opening nights or at charity fundraisers or the occasional art exhibit. "Rachel is enough of a celebrity to impress most of our guests."

Rachel's smile is instantaneous, and she leans into Quinn's side with an affectionate, "Thank you, baby," before brushing a chaste kiss over Quinn's lips.

"The two of you are still an unfairly attractive couple," Steven observes with an almost wistful smile.

"We know," Quinn assures him with a smirk, entwining her fingers with Rachel's.

"And you're right. We did invite you for a reason," Rachel informs him, squeezing Quinn's hand. "But first, can we rely on your discretion?"

A rich chuckle fills the room. "Rachel, my dear. Do I even need to dignify that with an answer?" he asks, gesturing to himself dramatically as if his discretion should be a given.

Rachel nods, accepting his rhetorical question as a suitable answer. "Quinn and I have…we have something we'd like to ask you." Her grip on Quinn's hand tightens. "A…a favor, really."

"You're under no obligation to agree," Quinn feels compelled to add.

"But we really, really hope you will," Rachel says quickly, and from her expression, Quinn guesses that she really wants to tell Steven that he absolutely _does_ need to agree.

Steven's curious gaze moves back and forth between them. "I can't agree if you don't ask me first."

A momentary silence stretches out between them while Quinn waits for Rachel to put forth her proposition, but when she continues to hesitate, Quinn decides to just put it out there. "Rachel and I are planning to start a family," she announces, feeling a familiar feeling of giddiness begin to overtake her.

Steven's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and then he's smiling widely at both of them. "That's wonderful," he exclaims, clapping his hands together in his obvious excitement for them. "The two of you will make such beautiful babies."

Quinn glances at her wife, seeing Rachel's bright eyes on her and a shy smile curving her lips. "We just need a little help," Rachel murmurs softly, still holding Quinn's gaze.

Comprehension washes over Steven's expression. "Oh. Oh! That's the favor?" he verifies, looking between them again. "You want me to… _contribute_."

Rachel licks her lips as she turns her attention back to Steven. "We really do. You have a number of very desirable traits. You're healthy, attractive, intelligent, and talented. You obviously have a wonderful singing voice," she compliments effusively. "And, well," she trails off, blushing slightly.

"Quinn and I bear a certain resemblance?" Steven notes playfully.

Quinn bites back her laughter as Rachel's blush deepens. "That too."

Steven lifts a hand, rubbing his fingers beneath his lips thoughtfully. "So, you're planning to carry the baby?" he asks Rachel, a trace of skepticism in his voice.

"Actually, I'll be doing that," Quinn interjects. "But we're using Rachel's egg."

"Which may or may not work," Rachel cautions hastily. "That's why we'd like your discretion, whether you agree to help us or not. We…we're not actually telling anyone in case it doesn't happen right away or…or at all."

Quinn's stomach twists unpleasantly at the pragmatic reminder, wondering when exactly she and Rachel had switched roles. Quinn is usually the pragmatist between them while Rachel is the irrepressible optimist, but now she finds herself wishing that Rachel could be a little more optimistic about their chances for success with the reciprocal IVF. As much as Quinn understands her concerns, she just wants her wife to feel as hopeful and giddy as she does about the possibility of them sharing in the pregnancy.

"I understand completely," Steven assures them, nodding solemnly. "I promise I won't ever violate your trust."

Rachel offers him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Before you make a decision," Quinn begins cautiously, "you should know…this isn't an invitation to be our _baby daddy_. The only contribution we want from you is your sperm."

Rachel's hand squeezes hers sharply. "Quinn, is that really necessary?" she reprimands with a frown.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "It's the truth," she tells Rachel unabashedly. "We need to be honest and upfront about everything from the beginning so there are no misunderstandings."

She levels her unwavering gaze on Steven, determined to lay it all out on the table for him in black and white so he can make a fully informed decision. "We'd prefer to use a donor we know so we have a full medical history and so that our child will know where he or she comes from, but make no mistake, Rachel and I will be the parents. _We'll_ make all the decisions," she explains, gesturing between herself and Rachel. "Of course, we'd allow you to be a part of our child's life to some degree if that's something you want, but it has to be with the understanding that you won't have any paternal rights. You'll just be…Uncle Steve," she offers with a little more sensitivity, "the wonderful, generous man who helped us start our family."

"Uncle Steve," he repeats drolly. "That's…" He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair again as he stares blindly at the far wall. "I honestly don't know what to say," he admits after a moment.

"Oh…is…is that a _no_?" Rachel asks dejectedly, and it's Quinn's turn to squeeze her hand in sympathetic support, feeling her own disappointment bubble to the surface.

Steven's eyes move back to them, and he shakes his head. "It's…I'm going to need some time to think about this," he tells them honestly. "Is that okay?"

Rachel presses her lips together, giving a short nod. "Okay. Yes. Take your time."

"But not too much time," Quinn adds apologetically. "We have our first consultation next week, and I think we'll need to know what we're doing about a donor before we can actually move forward with anything."

"Am I your first choice?" Steven asks with just the tiniest hint of conceit in his voice.

"Well, yes," Rachel confirms. "You're kind of…perfect."

Steven chuckles, flashing his famous, roguish smile. "Of course I am."

Quinn sighs, turning to Rachel. "His ego is kind of a negative though," she jokes, trying to lighten the mood again. "I mean, combining his with yours is…maybe not the best decision we could make."

Rachel reaches over with her free hand to poke Quinn in the side. "Funny."

"You know," Steven drawls, "if you're trying to provoke me into agreeing to be your donor just to prove you wrong," he grins, winking, "it might be working a little."

"Really?" Rachel asks hopefully.

Steven shrugs. "Still undecided though. I mean, honestly, I've never pictured myself fathering a child…for the obvious reason, of course," he acknowledges with a self-deprecating smile, "but mostly because I enjoy not needing to be responsible for anyone but myself. So…I don't actually feel like I'd have a problem with the _Uncle Steve_ part of it," he confesses, offering them a reassuring smile that seems to confirm the truth of his words, "but this still feels like a major life decision. Combining my genes with yours," he muses with barely suppressed awe as he gestures to Rachel, "and knowing that I helped make a living, breathing person. That's monumental."

"Yeah," Rachel breathes a little shakily.

"I'm honored that you asked me though," Steven assures them, "and I promise I'll make a decision and let you know in a couple of days."

"Thank you, Steven," Quinn says with an appreciative smile. After talking to him today, she's really hoping that he'll decide to do this for them, but, "I know this is a big thing to ask."

"Yeah, but it's an even bigger thing for the two of you to be doing," Steven recognizes. "You're gonna be amazing mothers though."

"That's the plan," Quinn agrees, turning to gaze at Rachel and seeing the now familiar mix of fear and longing on her face. With any luck, Steven's assessment of their maternal aptitude will chip away another little chunk of Rachel's trepidation.

"So…am I still getting lunch?" Steven asks. "Because something smells delicious, and I need the proper sustenance to help produce those little swimmers that you're both so obviously coveting."

The laughter that follows seems to chase away Rachel's tiny moment of anxiety, and they spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the food that Quinn had made over a bottle of wine and talking with Steven about things that have absolutely nothing to do with his swimmers.

Three days later, Steven calls to tell them, "I'm in," promising to be there to do his part whenever and wherever they need him.

_xx_

Quinn calls Josie at her office on Tuesday afternoon, knowing that she and Rachel really need to talk to an attorney now that Steven is onboard as their donor. She honestly doesn't understand enough about adoption and surrogacy laws to even begin to have a clue about what she and Rachel will need to do to make sure their potential family is protected.

Josie answers with a cheerful, " _Hi, Quinn_."

"Hey. Do you have a few minutes?" Quinn asks, tucking herself into the corner of the sofa across from her wife. Rachel instantly abandons her obsessive scrutiny of the latest stock figures—she's really thrown herself into monitoring their finances lately—and tosses aside her laptop and notebook to pay rapt attention to Quinn's side of the conversation.

" _I think I can make time for you_ ," Josie says amiably. " _How are you? We haven't really had a chance to talk since Rachel's opening night._ "

A smile forms on Quinn's lips even though Josie can't see her. That night had turned out to be really good for them. It would have been mostly good even if Rachel hadn't finally agreed to start their family after they'd gotten home—the performance had been fantastic, and having all of their friends there to share Rachel's success had been wonderful.

"I'm doing really well, actually," Quinn happily tells her, sending Rachel a playful wink. "So is Rachel. What about you? Are you and Sarah still trying to nail down a venue?" Their wedding is scheduled for May 6th—Josie had wanted to get married on New Year's Eve, but Sarah had vetoed the idea, preferring not to put their anniversary on a major holiday—but they have yet to decide on a location.

" _Ugh. Don't remind me_ ," Josie mutters dejectedly. " _I still think we should just get married at that cherry orchard near her parent's house, but Sarah doesn't think any of our friends would bother to come to Michigan_."

"Well…she's not entirely wrong about that," Quinn acknowledges sardonically. She's been to Fennville, and it isn't exactly much to look at. Of course, she'll make the trip if it comes to that—for Josie and for Sarah—but it will be hard for Rachel to get away from her show for more than a day or two. And she can't imagine Santana would be eager to rearrange her schedule for a destination wedding unless the destination happens to be Hawaii or a beach in Mexico. Then again, Teresa had formed a pretty fast friendship with Sarah—enough to earn her a wedding invitation of her very own regardless of whether or not she's still seeing Santana next May—so Santana might not have a choice.

" _You're not helping_ ," Josie complains.

"I thought Sarah was okay with having it in Boston." It still wouldn't be ideal for Rachel, but Boston is a much shorter commute.

" _She is_ ," Josie admits with obvious affection in her voice, " _but I really don't want my mother to invite half the city_." Quinn laughs, but she knows Josie isn't actually joking. Her mother has been trying to take over the wedding planning and turn it into a major social event since they'd gotten engaged in January. " _I think we're fairly settled on New York now since…well, we're here, and it's pretty central to most of our friends and family members. But that's only making it harder to pick the right location._ "

"There's always Central Park," Quinn suggests helpfully, enamored enough with the memory of her own perfect wedding day to pimp the location out to anyone and everyone.

She smirks at Rachel's indignant gasp. "That's ours," she hisses, crossing her arms and giving Quinn a playful glare.

" _No offense, Quinn_ ," Josie drawls, pulling Quinn's attention back from her adorable wife, " _but I'm not marrying Sarah in the same place you married Rachel._ "

"Well, I'm sure you'll think of the perfect place," Quinn assures her, having every faith in Josie's planning abilities—she'll deny it forever, but she's absolutely her mother's daughter.

" _I hope I think of it soon…and it's available for May. I'm kind of running short on time here_."

Quinn can sympathize, but they still have seven and a half months to bring it all together. "Speaking of time, I did actually call for a reason." As much as she enjoys catching up with Josie, she knows her friend is at work right now, and Quinn really does need her in a professional capacity. "Would it be possible for us to come see you in the near future?" she asks, holding Rachel's gaze as she asks and seeing a glimmer of anxiety in brown eyes.

" _I'll have to check with Sarah to see what her schedule is like_ ," Josie says, obviously misunderstanding.

Quinn clears her throat. "Actually….I meant in…in a legal capacity."

There's a silent pause on the other end of the phone. " _Okay, you just said that you and Rachel are doing well, so I_ know _you're not gonna tell me you need a divorce lawyer_."

"No," Quinn confirms immediately, "of course not."

"What did she say?" Rachel whispers with a curious expression.

Quinn waves her off, telling Josie, "It has to do with the other side of your specialty."

There's another pause before Josie's surprised voice rings out. " _Oh, wow. Are you guys thinking about starting a family?_ "

"Yeah," Quinn breathes out, smiling softly at Rachel. "We…um…we actually have an appointment at Chelsea Fertility on Monday." Rachel's lips twitch into a tiny smile, and she reaches over to take Quinn's hand. "It's still really early in the process, but we know we're probably going to need some legal advice."

" _Absolutely_ ," Josie agrees readily. " _New York laws are kind of a bitch. I'll be happy to get you and Rachel up to speed on everything you should be thinking about_. _Let me see_ ," she murmurs, pausing for a moment, " _I can squeeze you in next Tuesday at 10:30. Will that work?"_

A wave of relief washes over Quinn. "That's perfect. Thank you so much, Josie," she gushes, squeezing Rachel's hand and silently letting her know that Josie is agreeing to help them.

"Don't forget to ask her not to say anything," Rachel urges worriedly.

Quinn rolls her eyes, but she relays the message. "We're not actually telling anyone yet, so if you could…you know…use that attorney-client privilege thing?"

" _Consider it invoked_ ," Josie assures her. " _But can I just say…oh my God, Quinn!_ " she exclaims, suddenly sounding nothing like the calm, collected lawyer she is. " _I'm so excited for you!_ "

Quinn laughs. "We're pretty excited too," she shares with eyes on her wife. Maybe Rachel's excitement levels aren't quite as high as Quinn's are just yet, but it feels like she's slowly getting there. She's making plans for their finances and researching safe neighborhoods in the city, and she'd certainly been excited about getting Steven as their donor. Rachel is right here with Quinn, holding her hand with a smile that only seems a little bit nervous around the edges.

Quinn thanks Josie again, promising to see her next week, before she disconnects the call.

"So…we have a lawyer?" Rachel verifies.

Quinn nods. "And a donor," she reminds her wife. "The only thing left is the appointment on Monday."

Rachel drags in a breath. "Quinn, if…if it turns out we can't do this the way you want to…"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Quinn interrupts, squeezing Rachel's hand.

Rachel averts her eyes, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."

Dragging her teeth over her lower lip, Quinn studies Rachel's uncertain expression. "Rachel, sweetheart? You're not just…doing all of this because you don't want to disappoint me, are you?" she has to ask, reminding herself again that she needs to slow down if Rachel isn't quite ready yet. "Because as I much as I want to start our family, I need us to be on the same page."

Rachel's eyes fly back to hers. "We are," she promises. "Maybe not exactly the same sentence…or even paragraph," she admits with a wry smile, "but we're definitely on the same page. I…I want to start a family with you, Quinn. But I admit that I'm," she pauses, licking her lips, "I'm not completely sold on the in vitro."

Quinn lets her hand slip out of Rachel's as she sits back against the sofa, suddenly feeling less confident. "You said you were willing to try it," Quinn reminds her, silently acknowledging that she did end up pushing pretty hard for that agreement, but, "We even have a blond-haired, hazel-eyed donor lined up now."

Rachel grins a little. "Well, you know I won't be at all disappointed with a baby that looks just like you."

"Are you trying to pull off a bait and switch?" Quinn questions suspiciously—because Steven is a _really_ good match for them and Quinn has grown pretty attached to the idea of using him now.

Rachel chuckles softly, sliding closer to Quinn until their bodies are touching. "No. I did agree to try it, and I will," she resolves, attempting to convince Quinn of her vow—and possibly convince herself—but then she qualifies it by saying, "As long as it's…safe and viable and something Doctor Klein thinks we can try. But if it isn't…"

"We'll discuss other options," Quinn finishes stoically. "But, Rach," she continues with a hopeful smile, slipping an arm around her wife, "I have a really good feeling about this," she shares quietly, almost afraid to voice her thoughts for fear of jinxing it. The little voice that usually whispers in her head that all of her happiness could implode at any moment and leave her heartbroken and in tears is suspiciously absent on the subject of having her wife's baby, so she's choosing to believe that she's meant to do this for Rachel.

Rachel gazes deeply into Quinn's eyes, reaching down to thread their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to her lips to brush a loving kiss beneath Quinn's knuckles. "Then I'll put my faith in you," she promises, leaning in to seal her promise with the sweetest of kisses.

Quinn sighs into the kiss and threads her fingers into soft, dark hair. Everything about her life with Rachel feels more like fate than faith—a wild, unstoppable ride that's swept her into perfect happiness. She feels like they're still standing hand-in-hand at the very beginning, and she can't wait for them to take the next step.


	3. Showing You Every Weakness

**Part III: Showing You Every Weakness**

* * *

When the day of their consultation with Doctor Klein rolls around, Rachel tells herself that she's ready for it. Every time she feels those stubborn tendrils of fear begin to slither up from the grave that she's attempted to bury them in, she determinedly beats them back down with visions of Quinn and their future child (who is still insisting on being blonde-haired and hazel-eyed) in her mind.

Everything she's been reading about IVF seems to indicate that they'll be in for a long process before they might (possibly) be successful. Rachel isn't particularly eager to undertake the daily ritual of injecting herself with fertility drugs for weeks on end before having her eggs harvested, and she feels like maybe it might be wiser to wait until she's closer to the end of her contract with  _Confessions_  before they actually commit to this, but then another part of her thinks it might be easier to just get her side of it over with as quickly as possible so they can focus on Quinn's role.

Rachel obviously isn't going to say that out loud to Quinn. She has a feeling it would go over about as well as her referring to the in vitro as an extra hassle they didn't need.

She's fully committed to supporting Quinn completely—she'd just rather do it without needles and drugs and potentially feeling less than excellent for several months while she's trying to amaze audiences with her nightly performances!

But technically, this is just a consultation, and while Rachel knows that Quinn is aware of that, she also knows that her wife is feeling excited and hopeful as they make their way to Chelsea Fertility—which is actually not in Chelsea at all but located about seven blocks away from their apartment in Murray Hill.

It's a gorgeous September day—the temperature is in the low eighties and thankfully the humidity is fairly low—so they opt to walk the relatively short the distance to the clinic. Rachel is expecting to see an obvious medical facility jump out at her as they walk along East 37th Street, but all she sees are brownstones and low-rise buildings just like all of the other ones that line so many of the streets in their neighborhood.

"Are you sure we have the right address?" Rachel asks skeptically, eyeing the nondescript buildings with a frown.

"I'm sure," Quinn murmurs distractedly as she scans the buildings that actually bother to display their addresses in visible locations.

_There really should be much stricter laws about that_ , Rachel thinks, instantly sympathizing with the poor emergency workers tasked to quickly locate the address of the emergency to which they've been called.

Quinn's steps falter, and she tugs Rachel to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk as she glances around with a frown of her own before finally smiling. "There it is," she exclaims, pointing to a red, brick building that they've just passed by.

Rachel studies the building doubtfully until she finally notices the brass plaque next to the arched doorway that proclaims it does, in fact, house the clinic. With the shadow of a nearby tree growing up out of the sidewalk and the position of the steps leading to the second floor stoop, the ground level entrance is easy to miss for pedestrians who don't know it's there. Rachel's gaze moves further up the face of the building until she notices a small sign hanging overhead as well, but it's hardly any more noticeable than the plaque from street level.

"It doesn't look very…clinical," Rachel mutters with a frown still on her lips, instantly wary of the location. If Doctor Barnes hadn't specifically recommended Doctor Klein and this facility, Rachel would immediately drag Quinn away from here and start calling some of the more well-known clinics in the city—ones that actually look like clinics.

"I trust Doctor Barnes," Quinn assures her, unknowingly (or maybe knowingly) echoing the direction of Rachel's thoughts.

Rachel trusts their doctor too, which is the reason that she ultimately decides to give this place a chance. Nodding, she gives Quinn's hand a squeeze. "Then I guess we should see what the inside looks like."

Grinning, Quinn leads Rachel into the building, holding the door open for her to pass through. Unlike the exterior, the interior has the appearance of a medical facility with pristine white walls, a shiny tiled floor, and a sleek curved counter with a smiling receptionist standing front and center. Just beyond the counter is a small waiting area with two plush chairs sitting side-by-side and two leather loveseats arranged in front of a (not-currently-working) fireplace. It might be considered somewhat homey except for the stark white door with its narrow glass pane that stands at the end of the counter, looking like it was transplanted right out of a hospital corridor.

The receptionist—Sandy—greets them right away, checking them in when Quinn gives their names. It takes a little while since they have to provide some information to be established as patients, and Rachel's gaze drifts over the plaque and certificates on display behind Sandy, discovering that there are actually two other doctors on staff at the clinic. Once they're checked in, Sandy points them to the waiting area and tells them, "Doctor Klein will be with you shortly."

Quinn chooses one of the loveseats to sit on, and Rachel is forced to join her on it, running the pads of her fingers over the material with a frown as she attempts to determine whether it's real leather or fake. "It's fake," Quinn tells her with a knowing smile.

"You can't be certain," Rachel accuses—really, it's a very convincing imitation if it is one.

"Trust me," Quinn promises with twinkling eyes. "I can always tell the difference."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Was that one of Judy's lessons on snagging a rich husband?" she teases.

"One of many," Quinn confirms on a chuckle, not taking any offense at the slight jab to her mother. It's nothing that she hasn't joked about herself in the past. "But they work just as well for snagging a rich  _wife_ …even ones who are morally opposed to using animal products."

"I'm hardly rich," Rachel protests.

Quinn grins impishly. "You're a calculated investment."

Rachel does her best to stifle her smile, instead gently chastising her wife. "It's lovely that you've reduced our epic romance down to your potential monetary gain."

"I suppose there  _might_  be one or two other perks to being your wife," Quinn concedes with a frustratingly straight face.

Rachel huffs indignantly. "You're lucky you're so pretty, and therefore, a suitable trophy wife for me."

Quinn laughs outright at that, briefly drawing Sandy's attention to them. Sobering a little, Quinn leans closer, husking, "I'm a lot more than that."

Rachel smiles tenderly, knowing that Quinn really has been so much more to her for so long—she's Rachel's person, her love, her muse, her home, and the future mother of her child. "You are," she agrees adoringly, slipping her hand inside of Quinn's.

They mostly fall into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Rachel studies the tasteful black and white photographs on the wall until the white door connected to the waiting area opens and a couple comes out, looking happy enough as they make their way over to Sandy. Rachel doesn't really have an opportunity to discern what they're saying—it can hardly be considered eavesdropping when a conversation is happening in a public space with favorable acoustics!—because another woman appears in the doorway and addresses them both by their given names.

"Doctor Klein will see you now," she informs them politely. Rachel glances nervously to Quinn, who gives her a reassuring smile despite the trace of anxiety dancing in her eyes. Quinn squeezes her hand before standing up, and Rachel takes a deep breath and pulls herself up from the loveseat, following after her wife.

The woman—Hayley according to her nametag—leads them through a short hallway with several closed doors before stopping them in front of one. The hallway itself curves around a corner, and Rachel suspects that the clinic is actually much bigger than it appears at first glance. Hayley opens the door and gestures for them to enter a small but warmly appointed office with more of those black and white photographs on the wall and two plush, fabric chairs placed in front of an oak desk. Of course, the office décor isn't the first thing that Rachel notices—that would be the woman standing in front of the desk wearing a friendly smile and a white lab coat with the name Rosaline Klein embroidered over the left breast.

She's younger than what Rachel had been expecting—maybe in her late thirties or early forties—with light brown hair pulled back into a neat braid and dark, intelligent eyes peering at them over square-rimmed glasses. She instantly introduces herself while Hayley slips out of the room and closes the door behind them.

"Normally with my same sex couples, I'd have to clarify your first names, but in this case, I already know that you're Rachel," Doctor Klein reveals with a grin, reaching out a hand to give Rachel's a firm shake, "which makes you Quinn," she finishes, turning to shake Quinn's hand as well.

Quinn chuckles. "Let me guess. You're a fan," she comments as her eyes dart over to Rachel, who, as always, is extremely pleased to be recognized.

Doctor Klein smiles affably. "I do make an effort to see as many Broadway shows as I can at least once during their runs, so you could say I'm a fan of the theater." Her gaze falls back to Rachel. "I saw you in both  _West Side Story_  and  _Funny Girl_ , but I've yet to see  _Confessions,_ although I'm hearing that I should."

Rachel's lips quirk up at the corners at the acknowledgment, and a little more of her anxiety about today eases with the discovery of a common interest with Doctor Klein. "Oh, you definitely should. I certainly don't mean to brag," she begins, pausing imperceptibly when she hears a noticeable snicker from Quinn, "but the show is phenomenal."

"It is," Quinn agrees supportively. "And well worth the price of the ticket."

"Well, it's certainly on my list," Doctor Klein assures them, "but since you're not actually here to sell me theater tickets," she jokes, gesturing to the open chairs, "why don't you both have a seat so we can discuss what you  _are_  here about."

Rachel takes a seat in the chair that's closest to her while Quinn sits in the other. Doctor Klein moves back around the desk to claim her own chair, tapping a few keys on the laptop at the corner of her desk before focusing all of her attention on Quinn and Rachel. "So, when you made the appointment, you expressed interest in our reciprocal IVF program. Is that still your preference?"

"Yes," Quinn answers readily.

Doctor Klein nods. "Okay. So, what I'm going to do is go over the details of the program and what it entails with you first and then give you the chance to ask any questions you might have about it. Doctor Barnes's office did transfer your medical records to us," she informs them, gesturing to her laptop screen, "and I've looked them over, so I already have some idea of our starting point, but there are some additional tests that you'll both need to have done if you decide to pursue the treatment."

Doctor Barnes had already warned them about that, but Rachel still glances over at her wife to check her reaction to the news. There's a faint smile on Quinn's lips as she listens to Doctor Klein speak, which only confirms that she's willing to do whatever is necessary to carry Rachel's baby. Rachel really didn't expect to see any indication otherwise.

"Once we've gone over all the information," Doctor Klein continues, "if you're still interested, I'll ask you to meet with our business officer today to complete the necessary paperwork for your insurance as well as a few releases you'll need to sign before we can proceed."

"What if we're…not quite ready to proceed just yet?" Rachel interrupts, feeling the weight of Quinn's questioning eyes on her. "I mean…if we sign all of that paperwork, would we have to begin treatments right away?" she amends, wincing a little at her inability to phrase that much better the second time around.

Doctor Klein only smiles. "The timing of the treatments is something we'd work out once we've gotten all of your test results back. Why don't I go ahead and explain the whole process to you? I think that will answer a lot of your questions."

"Yes, please do," Quinn urges, and Rachel nods, sitting back in her chair and trying to relax so she can focus her attention on Doctor Klein and fully process whatever she's going to tell them.

"Well, as I've said, your records indicate that you've both had fairly recent physicals and are in excellent health, but we do require several other preliminary screening procedures before we can begin fertility treatments. First, have you made an initial decision on which of you would be donating the egg and which of you would be carrying the pregnancy?"

Quinn glances over at Rachel with a soft smile before answering, "I'll be carrying."

Doctor Klein nods. "I had a feeling that might be the case, considering Rachel's current professional commitment." A grateful smile pulls at Rachel's lips at their doctor's quick grasp of their situation. "So, the first step for both of you is having some blood work completed in which we'll screen for genetic and infectious diseases." Her gaze drifts to Rachel as she explains that, "Some of that paperwork you'd be completing today includes a release for the genetic screening that's required of all tissue donors by New York state law. Basically, you and Quinn need to grant us permission to order all the necessary screenings before we can move forward with anything else."

"That makes sense," Rachel murmurs in understanding.

"I'm assuming that you're legally married?" Doctor Klein asks gently, her gaze moving back and forth between them.

"We are," Rachel confirms with a proud smile as she glances lovingly at Quinn, who returns the look with equal emotion.

Doctor Klein nods again, her own lips curving. "That makes some of the paperwork easier, and we'll be able to waive the psychosocial evaluation that's typically required of egg donation, since you'll both be the intended parents. Now Rachel," she continues, drawing Rachel's eyes back to her, "as the egg donor, we'll also need to run some blood tests on you to check your general hormone levels as well as to check your AMH." Rachel frowns in confusion, having understood everything up until the acronym. "That stands for anti-mullerian hormone," Doctor Klein explains, having noticed Rachel's puzzled expression, "which is a protein released by your ovaries that will give us an idea of how many egg follicles you have available. In addition, I'll schedule you for a vaginal ultrasound to determine your ovarian position and size and give us an even better idea of the follicle count. Together, those tests will help us determine if you'll be a good egg donor candidate."

"And if my numbers are bad?" Rachel asks worriedly, her eyes darting over to Quinn as she curls her fingers into the arms of the chair. Despite her initial indifference about Quinn using her egg, Rachel suddenly doesn't like the idea of failing this particular test.

"While there's always a possibility these screenings will uncover results that indicate infertility," Doctor Klein begins carefully, "the beauty of IVF is that we really can create miracles out of so-called bad numbers. Obviously, the more follicles you have, the more opportunity we'll have to retrieve viable eggs to fertilize and transfer."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Quinn interjects, offering Rachel a reassuring smile as she reaches across the small space between their chairs and glides her fingers over the back of Rachel's hand. Rachel gratefully turns her palm up and allows Quinn link their fingers together.

"There's no reason to think otherwise at this point," Doctor Klein confirms kindly before turning her attention to Quinn.

"Now, Quinn, as the partner who'll be experiencing the pregnancy, in addition to the blood work to screen for infectious diseases, I'll also be scheduling you for a vaginal ultrasound so we can get a look at your uterine lining and make sure there are no fibroids or cysts to be concerned with. If we happen to find any, depending on their size and location, you may need to have them removed before we can proceed with the fertility treatment."

"Oh-okay," Quinn breathes out with a nod, reflexively squeezing Rachel's hand a little tighter. Rachel glances at her worriedly—internally panicking over all of the problems that these tests might uncover for both of them.

Doctor Klein seems to recognize their nervous reactions. "Again, don't be concerned about hypothetical results at this point," she urges firmly. "These are routine tests, and your medical records don't indicate any previous irregularities for either of you. Now, Quinn, in addition to the ultrasound, I'll also get you scheduled for a hysterosalpingogram." Quinn's eyebrow arches, and Rachel can understand why. That word is completely incomprehensible. Doctor Klein chuckles at their matching perplexed expressions. "It's basically a dye test and x-ray to image the inside of your uterus and fallopian tubes. We'll use it to rule out any blockages or fluids that could impede a successful implantation."

"Those are a lot of tests," Rachel observes, feeling less and less enamored with this idea.

"All of the blood tests can be done with the same draw," Doctor Klein assures them, "and the hysterosalpingogram is usually only a five minute procedure. The vaginal ultrasounds are a little more...involved," she admits tactfully, "but we do have a technician on staff who performs those tests, and we can set up an appointment before you leave here today. If all of the results come back favorably, we can move onto the next phase of the process whenever you choose."

Quinn runs her tongue over her lips before asking, "What is the next phase?"

Doctor Klein smiles. "You would choose a sperm donor and have the sample delivered to us so we can have it readily available for the eventual egg retrieval date."

"We actually have a donor already," Rachel tells her. "A friend of ours has very generously agreed to help us."

Doctor Klein sits back in her chair, frowning thoughtfully as she folds her hands on the desktop. "In that case, I have to advise you that using a known donor can present certain risks that an anonymous donor would not."

"We're aware of the legal aspect of it," Quinn assures her. "Our lawyer will be drawing up the appropriate contracts," she promises, even though they haven't actually met with Josie yet to verify that.

"That's good," Doctor Klein says with a nod," but there's also the medical aspect to consider. The FDA requires strict screenings for sperm donation. All donors undergo the same genetic and infectious disease testing that you'll undergo as an egg donor, and by law, the samples are put into quarantine for at least six months and screened a second time before they can be released. All accredited sperm banks adhere to the same policy."

"Six months?" Rachel repeats forlornly, feeling disappointment settle over her. Quinn might prefer not to wait that long, and therefore, not use Steven as their donor—and Rachel really wants to use Steven as their donor.

"Even for someone we know?" Quinn asks with a frown.

Doctor Klein sighs. "The FDA does allow doctors to waive or shorten the waiting period for a known donor as long as the intended parents sign the applicable waivers."

"We will," Quinn insists quickly.

Doctor Klein nods. "I still need to advise you that the screening process for your donor will carry a margin of error as we won't be able to retest for diseases that could develop after an incubation period. However, since you're interested in the in vitro fertilization and not intrauterine insemination, the risk of passing any potential disease to you as the gestational carrier is very low."

"But it could be passed to the baby?" Rachel realizes, her heart sinking.

"There would be a chance. I don't mean to scare you," Doctor Klein tells them gently, "but these are the things you have to be aware of before you make a final decision. Now, if you feel comfortable with your donor and know his medical history, and he's regularly been tested for sexually transmitted diseases, then the screenings done prior to his donation may, in fact, be a good indication that there wouldn't be any additional problems. But again, that's something the two of you should discuss between yourselves and with your donor," she urges, making eye contact with both of them in turn to ensure they understand what she's telling them. Rachel is afraid they understand all too well.

"If you end up deciding it's a risk you're willing to take, then I'll have you sign the waiver so that I can request the quarantine period be shortened. Or, if you're not opposed to waiting out the six month period, you can still use your donor and have the full quarantine and additional screenings done. And of course, there's still the option of choosing an anonymous donor who has already been released from quarantine."

Rachel looks over to Quinn in time to meet her uncertain gaze. For as many times as Quinn has told her they can slow all of this down, Rachel knows that she doesn't particularly want to—not now that they're sitting here on the cusp of beginning their journey to motherhood.

To be honest, Rachel isn't really opposed to waiting out the quarantine. But six months from now would take them to the end of March, and since they need the sperm before Rachel can donate the egg, Quinn probably wouldn't even be able to try conceiving until sometime next summer. Rachel will be finished with  _Confessions_  by then, and if a pregnancy doesn't happen right away, then it might be two or three more years before they'd actually have their baby. Rachel could be right back to being torn between wanting to start a new project and needing to take time away from her career to focus on their family, and she's finally in a place now where she's (mostly) resolved that having a baby next year would fit in perfectly with her schedule.

They need to talk about this—and talk to Steven. Rachel knows he's something of a health fanatic, and she's sure that he's regularly tested, but one can never really know what goes on in someone else's private life.

Looking back to Doctor Klein, Rachel promises her that, "We'll talk about our options, but…um…if we decide to use our donor and get the waiver…would he come here for that?"

"He…and you…will actually go to the sperm bank you choose and complete the paperwork they'll have for dedicated donors," Doctor Klein explains. "And I would send the order for a shortened quarantine period to them. Your donor will need to give them a sample to be tested for sperm count and motility, and he'll need to stay while that's completed, as it will determine whether or not he's a viable donor."

Rachel frowns at yet another potential reason that their perfect donor might turn out not to be so perfect after all.

"If he is," Doctor Klein continues, "he'll need to have blood drawn for the genetic and disease testing and donate his sperm within seven days of that testing. Assuming the test results are all good, his sperm can be released to us, and we'll keep it cryopreserved here at the clinic until we're ready to use it. If he needs to contribute more samples beyond the initial seven days, he'd have to undergo the same blood tests every time. Now, if you successfully conceive with this donor, you might want to think about having him bank a few vials of sperm for any attempts at a second pregnancy. Those samples, of course, would need to undergo the full quarantine."

A nervous laugh slips past Rachel's lips at the information, because she's already feeling increasingly overwhelmed from  _this_ attempt, and they haven't even really started yet. She can't even begin to consider a second pregnancy.

"Rach?" Quinn questions softly, looking over at her in concern.

Shaking her head, Rachel clears her throat. "So…um…once we work out the…the donor, what then?"

Doctor Klein's lips curve into another smile as she happily leaves the concerns of their sperm donor behind for the moment. "Typically, the next step is putting you both on contraceptives to get your cycles synced up."

Rachel laughs in earnest at that, turning her head to meet Quinn's amused eyes. It's Doctor Klein's turn to look a little perplexed at their reactions, and with a chuckle of her own, Quinn admits, "We're actually already pretty much in sync."

"The perk of living together for five years," Rachel adds with a blush. Actually, it had probably started happening well before that. They'd never been more than a week or so apart, even before they'd started dating, but since they'd moved in together, "We're usually only a few days apart."

Of course, there's the occasional odd month where one or both of them are feeling stressed enough for it to mess with their cycles, but then one of them will inevitably end up being either late or early in the next month or two until they're right back in sync again. It's actually proven to be fairly convenient for them in terms of both shopping and sex, but not so much when it comes to the dueling doses of PMS symptoms.

"Well, if that's truly the case, it will help to speed things along when we reach that stage," Doctor Klein points out encouragingly.

Considering that Rachel is still somewhat torn on whether or not she wants to speed things up or slow them down—though admittedly not quite as slow as another six months—she's not certain if that's really a blessing. Swallowing down her concerns, she keeps herself grounded by focusing on Quinn's hand in hers as Doctor Klein continues to outline exactly what will be involved with the reciprocal IVF treatment.

"Rachel, as the egg donor, you'll be undergoing what we call controlled ovarian stimulation. The contraceptives are the first step to suppressing your natural cycle. You'll likely be on them for two to three weeks, depending on how Quinn's cycle lines up with yours. Then you'll overlap those with a drug called Lupron which will ensure that your natural ovulation is completely shut down. You'll probably start a period a few days after stopping the contraceptives, and on that day, you'll call us and we'll get you in here for some more blood work and another ultrasound to get a baseline for your hormone levels and follicle size. At that time, you'll begin the gonadotropin injections twice a day for anywhere from seven to fourteen days, depending on your response to them."

"That's the fertility drug?" Rachel questions, her head spinning with the information.

"In the simplest terms, yes," Doctor Klein confirms. "They're actually hormone injections that will stimulate the eggs inside your follicles to mature. While you're taking them, we'll need to monitor your progress closely by rechecking your blood work and ultrasound results, so you'll need to be available to come into the clinic in the mornings. Once the follicles are the right size, we'll schedule your retrieval and give you the exact time and date that you'll need to take what we refer to as the trigger shot, which is an injection of hCG that acts as a final surge of hormones and causes the eggs to separate from the follicle so that we're able to remove them with a syringe."

Rachel's stomach churns unpleasantly at the idea of injections and syringes in places that no syringe should ever go. "That doesn't sound very pleasant," she mutters.

Doctor Klein chuckles a little. "You'll be put under with anesthesia for the process, so I'm afraid you should count on missing any shows you might have that day," she warns with a sympathetic smile. "But we should be able to work around your schedule to a large degree for everything else."

"That would be preferable," Rachel says gratefully. She really doesn't want to have to miss too many shows due to medical visits, but luckily, most of her shows are in the evenings. And really, after a quick calculation of the timeframes that Doctor Klein mentioned, Rachel's time of needing to be on the drugs might be as short as three or four weeks. She can certainly manage that when Quinn is offering to commit her body to nine months of pregnancy.

Doctor Klein's smile widens. "The good news is; if we're able to retrieve a decent quality and quantity of eggs and have them successfully fertilized with the first treatment, we can cryopreserve unused embryos for subsequent transfer attempts if they're needed."

"Hopefully, they won't be," Quinn adds, glancing at Rachel with an optimistic smile.

"And that brings me to your side of the process, Quinn," Doctor Klein continues, shifting her attention back to Quinn. "It's actually a little bit easier up until the pregnancy. Like Rachel, you'll begin with a combination of the contraceptives and Lupron, and once Rachel begins her hormone injections, we'll keep you on the Lupron and begin estrogen supplements to build up the lining of your uterus. On the day after Rachel's retrieval, you'll start taking progesterone shots which will continue until the twelfth week of pregnancy," she reveals with an encouraging smile.

"The first transfer is scheduled for three or five days after the retrieval, depending on the number and quality of embryos. We prefer the five day transfer whenever possible in order to give the embryos time to reach the blastocyst stage. At your discretion, we can either transfer one embryo or two, although I don't recommend more than that to begin since transfers at that stage usually have a higher rate of successful implantation."

"Oh, we wouldn't want more than one," Rachel cuts in, quickly seizing the chance to avoid a multiple pregnancy and looking to Quinn in the hope that they're on the same page about that.

Quinn purses her lips for a moment as she considers Rachel's decision, but then she nods her agreement. "I think we want to start with just one."

And hopefully, they'll never need to attempt more than that. Rachel's degree of readiness isn't anywhere near the level of having twins.

Doctor Klein turns to her laptop and types something in, no doubt making a note on their file. "That's certainly not a problem. As I said, we can cryopreserve unused embryos for later attempts." Abandoning her computer, she turns back to Quinn. "If we don't get a positive result on the first attempt, we'd stop the progesterone and start your cycle of medications again for a second attempt using the frozen embryos. Once we do get the positive result, you'll have an ultrasound at about six weeks to check fetal development, heartbeat, and rule out an ectopic pregnancy and then another at ten weeks, at which time I'll release you back to Doctor Barnes." She smiles at both of them, glancing back and forth between them. "Do you have any questions that we haven't already covered?"

It's a lot of information.

A lot.

Rachel is still trying to process most of it, but—

"How much is this going to cost?" she asks after a beat, drawing Quinn's narrowed eyes to her. She shrugs sheepishly under her wife's scrutiny. "What? It's a perfectly legitimate question."

Doctor Klein smiles at that, nodding. "It is. Our business officer will be able to get you the detailed estimate, but generally, one cycle of the procedure for our reciprocal program costs from $12,000.00 to $15,000.00, depending on the drug protocol needed."

Rachel puffs out a heavy breath, unable to stop her ingrained flinch reflex at the cost. Beside her, Quinn takes the opposite tact—hissing in a sharp breath. Despite her desire to do this, Rachel knows that Quinn is generally as cautious with their money as she is. Their wedding had been an extravagance that she silently thanks their parents for helping them pay for every single day.

"So," Doctor Klein continues, "are you interested in taking the first steps and signing the paperwork today? Or do you need time to talk it over?"

Quinn looks questioningly at Rachel, tugging the corner of her lower lip between her teeth, but Rachel can read the longing in her eyes. Even if they sign the contract today, they'll still need to go for those tests and talk to Steven again and make a final decision on whether to use him as their donor and then talk to Josie about contracts and face the potential months of multiple treatments that Doctor Klein just detailed. It seems somewhat counterproductive to delay this first step any longer just to have another discussion that she already knows will result in Quinn wanting to say  _yes_  while she's inclined to hesitate because she's still overwhelmed by the thought of everything that she might do wrong once they actually have their baby. The baby she wants—more and more every day. So taking a breath, Rachel turns to Doctor Klein and tells her, "I think we want to go ahead and get started with the initial screening."

Doctor Klein smiles again. "Fabulous," she exclaims, picking up her phone. "Let me just make sure Jeff is available to get your paperwork started."

There's a soft smile on Quinn's face as she gazes at Rachel, and she leans over across their chairs, dropping her free hand over their joined ones where they still rest on the arm of Rachel's chair. "Are you sure about this?" she whispers.

"I think so," Rachel offers quietly. She's at least certain that she wants to find out the results of the initial tests and see if they can even do this. After that—well, she supposes they'll have to see what happens.

When Doctor Klein hangs up the phone, she informs them that she can take them to meet with their business officer now, so they follow her to another office in the same hallway where she introduces them to an older gentleman who'll be going over the releases, estimate, and clinic contract with them.

Doctor Klein invites them both to call her with any other questions that they might think of in the coming days and reminds them, "You can ask Sandy to schedule your ultrasounds and blood work before you leave. She has a knack for getting patients in quickly, and our technician is very efficient. I'll be in touch as soon as I have all the results, and at that time, if you've made a decision on your donor, we can go from there."

They thank her for her time before they sit down with Jeff, only to be overwhelmed all over again with the stacks of paperwork that they have to complete to truly begin the process of becoming mothers.

Two hours later, they find themselves back at their apartment with their own file folder filled with paperwork and two appointment cards for Friday morning—8:00 am for Rachel and 9:00 am for Quinn. As it turns out, Sandy really does have a knack for speedy scheduling.

"I can't believe we're really doing this," Rachel mumbles to herself as she stands in the middle of their living room staring down at all the papers in her hands, feeling those dreaded tendrils of fear threaten to crawl out of their grave.

"You said you were ready," Quinn reminds her with a small frown.

"I did," Rachel agrees with a nod. "And I…I am," she promises unevenly, "but there are so many tests and drugs to worry about just to be able to...to try. It's just...a lot to process."

Quinn slowly sinks down into the chair, studying Rachel carefully before finally speaking. "We haven't committed to anything but the screening. We…we don't have to start the rest of the process right away."

Rachel sits on the ottoman in front of her wife, tossing the paperwork onto the coffee table. "But you want to."

Quinn's eyes dart away almost guiltily, and she sighs. "Yeah. I do. More than anything."

It's the answer Rachel had expected, and she nods slowly, reaching out to take Quinn's hand and waiting until hazel eyes come back to meet hers. "Then we're doing it," she reaffirms. "Do you still want to have Steven be our donor?"

Quinn's lips quirk into a sardonic grin. "It's not like I had Puck tested and quarantined before he knocked me up."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You really should have."

"I should have done a lot of things differently then," Quinn agrees before licking her lips. "I trust Steven more than I ever trusted Puck. If his tests come back okay, and he says his medical history is good, then I think I'm actually okay with waiving the waiting period and using him. What about you?"

"He wouldn't lie to us," Rachel confirms. "If he were aware there might be a reason we shouldn't consider him, I believe he would tell us. So I'm okay with him too, assuming the tests are all negative." And she really does want him to be their donor. He's just the right mix of familiar yet not too involved in their lives, and he might just manage to gift their child with hazel eyes and a proportionate nose.

Quinn nods, smiling a little. "So then, we'll talk to Josie about the legal stuff, get Steven to sign whatever he needs to sign, and let Doctor Klein know so she can give us the waiver. And if for some reason, it doesn't work out with him…"

"We'll have to look into the anonymous donors," Rachel reluctantly concludes.

"Unless you want to ask Sam Evans," Quinn offers with a grin.

Rachel's gut reaction is to say  _no_ , and the grimace she can feel on her face is surely an indication of that, but then she considers that there's also a certain resemblance between Sam and Quinn, and her grimace transforms into a thoughtful frown. "Do you think he might agree?"

Quinn laughs, shaking her head. "Let's just focus on Steven for now."

And that's exactly what they do when they meet with Josie on Tuesday. Of course, Josie also advises them that they should have a contract between  _them_  as well, despite the fact that they're married. New York law will view Quinn as the legal mother since Quinn is carrying the pregnancy, and even though they are never under any circumstances getting divorced—Rachel is quite firm on that—Josie insists that they need to protect Rachel's claim to the resulting child in case (God forbid!) anything were to ever happen to Quinn.

_Nothing will ever happen to Quinn_ , Rachel silently resolves.

They end up agreeing to have Josie draw up two contracts, one for them and one for Steven as their donor, and they also consider taking her advice to seek out a second parent adoption after the baby is born just so there can never be any doubt that they're both legally the mothers. Because the contract they'll be signing with each other needs to protect both of them equally, Josie informs them that she can only officially represent one of them to ensure it will hold up in court, so they agree that, officially, Josie will represent Rachel and one of her colleagues whom she trusts implicitly, Andrew Ferguson, will represent Quinn. Steven will have to bring his own attorney.

They touch base with Steven on Wednesday, and he assures them that he's regularly tested for STDs and has a clean bill of health from his last screening three months ago. It makes them both feel better about their decision, especially when Steven assures them that he doesn't have a problem undergoing the tests that will be required for him to donate. "I'll even pay for them myself," he offers. "Consider it my baby-warming gift to you. Well, in addition to my little swimmers," he jokes.

They both appreciate the generous offer and put aside their pride to accept it. It's not like Steven can't afford it.

The next seven days turn out to be fairly busy for them, between the tests they have scheduled on Friday—Rachel shudders at the thought of having to endure more of those vaginal ultrasounds in the coming months—and the phone call from Josie on Monday letting them know that she has the initial legal documents ready for review. Rachel calls Steven with the information, thinking his attorney might need some time to look everything over, but by the end of the week, they have signed contracts in place to protect their maternal rights and renounce Steven's paternal claim.

They also have the results of all of their tests.


	4. Feeling Strong For It

**Part IV: Feeling Strong For It**

* * *

Everything is perfect.

All of the tests say so.

Rachel's genetic profile shows no abnormalities to worry about, her hormone levels are right where they should be, and her egg follicles look fabulous—Doctor Klein's exact words.

Quinn's blood tests are just as promising, and her ultrasound and that other test that she can't pronounce both indicate that her uterus is healthy and that there are no obstructions to a successful implantation.

That means the next step is signing the waiver that Doctor Klein has for them stating that they understand the risks associated with bypassing the six month quarantine for their donor. Once they do that, she can file the request with the sperm bank—she's recommended the California Cryobank (which has a facility in Midtown)—and they can get Steven registered for the directed donor program.

They just need to actually _do_ that.

What they do instead is get roped into helping Santana pack up her studio apartment in Morningside Heights—the one that she's been living in since college—so they can move her several blocks south into a two bedroom overlooking the river that she'll be officially sharing with Teresa.

"Payback's a bitch," Santana proclaims gleefully as she shoves a box from the back of the moving truck into Quinn's waiting hands. "But at least I'm not making you do this in the middle of an ice storm like you did to me."

Quinn readjusts her grip on the box, which thankfully isn't very heavy. "At least Rachel and I gave you more than a day's notice. I can't believe you didn't tell me you were moving until yesterday," she grumbles.

Santana shrugs. "Hey, I told you I asked 'Resa to move in with me back in August. I can't help it you were distracted with your own drama at the time."

Quinn flushes at the reminder, automatically glancing over at Rachel who is trying to wrangle two ungainly lamps into the building all by herself until Teresa jogs over and helpfully takes one of them before she opens the door for Rachel with a smile.

She can't deny that she's been preoccupied with her own issues for the last couple of months. She'd moved from frustration and disappointment early in August to anticipation and hope by the end of it. And maybe her own excitement about actually planning for her family with Rachel might have overshadowed Santana's announcement that she'd found the perfect apartment for herself and Teresa to share. In retrospect, Quinn probably hasn't been as tuned in to the changes that Santana has been making as she should have been as a supportive best friend. But—

"It's not like you two haven't practically been living together since June," Quinn comments distractedly. That's when Santana had given her girlfriend a key to her apartment, a drawer, and six hangers in her closet—which was a major event for Santana! After that, it seemed as though Teresa had rarely bothered to spend a night at the apartment that she'd technically been sharing with her best friend in Brooklyn.

"Way to evade, Q," Santana chastises quietly, assessing her with keen eyes as she taps a fingernail against the bed of the truck. "Look, I know I said I didn't want to get in the middle of your domestic shit, but...I can't help noticing that you've seemed a little happier than the last time we actually talked about…things," she concludes with a roll of her eyes.

Quinn can't quite suppress her smile. "I am," she admits, wanting to gush to Santana that they're already taking steps to start their family but conscious of the promise that she'd made her wife to keep this between them for now. And really, if she's being honest with herself, Quinn knows that telling Santana would probably result in a litany of jokes and borderline-offensive comments and—well, outside expectations that they really shouldn't have to worry about. So instead, Quinn only says, "Rachel and I...we talked about it and came to an understanding that we're both happy with."

Well, she thinks they're both happy, even if Rachel does keep making excuses for them to not go to the clinic and sign the waiver. And okay, so Friday had been the day Steven had actually signed the contract that Josie had drawn up for them, so it was kind of silly to rush right to Chelsea Fertility that evening. And the clinic is really only open on the weekends in order to monitor patients currently undergoing follicle stimulation and to perform egg retrievals and embryo transfers, so it wouldn't have really been acceptable to ask to be squeezed in on Saturday or Sunday, even if Rachel didn't have her matinee performances to worry about. And, to be fair, Rachel had seemed fine with going today before Santana had called them at the last minute to tell them they were helping her move. Rachel hadn't technically been wrong when she'd argued that trying to make it to the clinic first thing this morning would have had them rushing too much to get to Santana's place by nine.

Rachel doesn't have a show tonight though, so if they can get all of Santana and Teresa's stuff into the new apartment quickly, then they might be able to make it to Chelsea Fertility before they close at five. It's technically possible since they have help in the form of Kurt, Teresa's friend and now-former roommate, Kate, and one of Teresa's brothers, Tony, who lives just across the Hudson in Jersey City.

Quinn glances back into the truck, which is still packed with boxes and art supplies and furniture, and has to admit that finishing by five is probably a pipe dream.

"That's all you're giving me?" Santana questions incredulously. "After you showed up crying on my doorstep in the middle of the night."

"It was only nine o'clock," Quinn corrects with a frown, "and you said you didn't want to know any details about our baby-making activities."

Santana scoffs, crossing her arms. "Since when do you listen to anything I say?"

Quinn chuckles, shaking her head. "All you need to know is that my wife and I are fine," she assures Santana, knowing that's really what she's most concerned about. For all her teasing and grumbling, Santana likes knowing that her friends are happy and disgustingly in love, and she wants to make sure they're going to stay that way.

"So, in other words, the midget caved," Santana deduces with a knowing smirk.

Quinn frowns. Rachel didn't _cave_. Well, not exactly, anyway. She just finally opened up to Quinn about all of her concerns so they could talk them through.

Sighing, she decides to tell Santana as much, temporarily setting the box she's been holding back on the edge of the truck bed. "Look, I told you…Rachel and I talked about everything. She told me all the reasons that she didn't feel ready yet, and…you were right," she admits reluctantly, recalling the way Santana had countered Quinn's angry insistence that her marriage was built on lies by telling her she'd boarded the crazy-train and needed to slam the breaks and derail that fucker immediately. "I was overreacting a little."

Santana barks out a laugh. "You think?"

Quinn ignores the familiar snark, silently reminding herself that for all of Santana's typical abrasiveness, she'd been the one to sit beside Quinn with an arm around her shoulders and calmly listen to all her reasons for wanting a baby and feeling like Rachel didn't. Once Quinn had finished crying about it, Santana had gently pointed out that Rachel was allowed to not be ready for kids just yet, and it didn't necessarily mean that she'd been stringing Quinn along with a lie. Then she'd told Quinn to go home and talk to her wife because she wasn't getting any deeper into their baby drama than that.

"The point is that Rachel and I are on the same page now," Quinn informs her vaguely. "So there's no domestic drama for you to worry about."

"Ah, but the question is will there be tiny, loud, rugrats for me to worry about?" Santana muses with a grin.

Quinn rolls her eyes, turning to pick up the box again and hoping that she appears suitably indifferent. She doesn't want Santana to recognize the sparkle in her eyes or the blush she can feel on her cheeks that would give her away. Still, it's not really breaking any promises to Rachel if she only says, "Someday, probably."

She hears Santana huff out a dubious breath. "Gee, can you be any sketchier there?"

"I'm taking this box up to your new apartment," Quinn announces matter-of-factly, turning back to Santana. "If we leave Rachel and Kurt up there alone with Teresa for too long, they might decide on some elaborate decorating scheme that will have us moving furniture back and forth for the next five hours."

Santana scowls at the possibility, pulling a nearby box off the truck. "Then get your ass up there, Fabray," she orders, mercifully distracted from their previous conversation. "There's no way your wife is getting any say in how my new apartment gets decorated."

Laughing, Quinn does as she's told, nodding at Kate as she comes back out of the building and heads to the truck for another load. "Where is this box going anyway?" she asks Santana.

There's a snicker from behind her. "The bedroom. Those are the sex toys." Quinn's steps falter at the revelation, and she grimaces, holding the box a little farther away from her body. Santana passes by her, howling in laughter. "Told you payback is a bitch," she calls back over her shoulder.

Thankfully, Santana's focus seems to shift entirely to the move, so if she happens to mention anything baby-related to Rachel, Quinn never notices, and Rachel never gives her any indication to make her think otherwise.

Even with everyone working together, Quinn accepts that this endeavor is probably going to last well into the evening, though Harry does show up in a loose tie and rolled up sleeves around three-thirty to help, having left work early, so they do at least manage to get all of the furniture successfully wrangled into the apartment exactly where Santana and Teresa (and not Kurt or Rachel) want it.

It's a little after six o'clock by the time everything is inside the apartment, most of the larger items are in place, and they're mostly down to boxes to be opened. Quinn slips away from her self-appointed task of unpacking the kitchen items in search of her wife and finds her admiring the view of the river from one of the box-littered bedrooms.

"Don't let Santana catch you slacking off," she teases, slipping her arms around Rachel's waist as she steps up behind her.

"I'm simply taking a five minute break," Rachel insists, leaning back into Quinn and covering Quinn's hands with her own where they rest over her stomach. "You know, I find it incredibly coincidental that Santana happened to plan her move for the one day of the week that I don't have a show."

Quinn laughs softly. "You know that was calculated. Everyone else here except for Harry has a fairly flexible schedule."

"Santana doesn't," Rachel pouts.

"Which is why she specifically asked for today off," Quinn points out with a grin. "She's taking advantage of the free labor and the favors she thinks we owe her."

Rachel huffs lightly. "I should be exempt. After all, I'm the one who encouraged Teresa to give her a second chance."

Quinn laughs again. "You can't play that card forever, sweetie."

"I can try," Rachel stubbornly vows.

She isn't fooling Quinn. Rachel is thrilled that Santana and Teresa are serious enough to be living together. She's been their biggest cheerleader—and not just because Teresa keeps Santana from showing up at their apartment at odd hours to raid their kitchen. Quinn has no doubt in her mind that Rachel would have been the first to volunteer to help out today if Santana hadn't drafted them first.

Quinn would have done the same—but that doesn't mean she wouldn't have appreciated more than the one day notice that Santana had given them.

"It's a really nice apartment though, with an incredible view," Quinn muses appreciatively. Santana had wanted to make sure that Teresa would be able to set up a little art studio and paint, and Quinn thinks she managed to do a damn fine job of finding a place where her girlfriend could do just that. The apartment is bright and roomy with large windows, and Quinn thinks the way the evening sun is reflecting off the water right now could be considered downright inspirational.

"It is," Rachel agrees, running the pads of her fingers in tiny circles over the back of Quinn's hand. "We might just have to look more closely at real estate on the Upper West Side. Maybe we can find a three bedroom that's comparable to this one."

Quinn grins happily, hugging Rachel closer and brushing a kiss over her cheek. She knows her wife has been doing research on every neighborhood in Manhattan and a few of the surrounding boroughs to determine the best place for them to raise their family, and she thinks the Upper West Side was already on the list, but being in Santana's new apartment seems to have bumped it to the top. "I like the idea of living closer to our friends too," she murmurs against Rachel's ear.

Rachel turns in Quinn's arms, looping her own around Quinn's shoulders as she smiles up at her. "Kurt's not very far away either. We'd have at least two conveniently located babysitters." She grins impishly. "And Santana too, I suppose."

Quinn laughs, a blanket of happiness wrapping around her heart as she gazes at her wife. Moments like this—when Rachel is smiling and talking about their future with hope and joy—make Quinn believe that Rachel's fears are gradually fading away and that they really are on the same page (and even the same paragraph) when it comes to starting their family.

"Have I told you today that I love you?" Quinn asks contentedly, idly stroking a hand up and down Rachel's back.

Rachel hums, tilting her head as she considers the question. "No, I don't actually think you have."

A grin spreads over Quinn's lips. She certainly needs to rectify that oversight. "Well, then. I love you, Rachel," she declares before dipping her head down to capture her wife's lips.

The kiss is soft and sweet and slow, and it ends so gradually that they're both left breathing in each other's smiles.

"I love you too, Quinn," Rachel murmurs into the miniscule space between them before she erases it.

A sharp rap on the wall has them abruptly jerking out of their second kiss before either of them would prefer. "Hey! Stop screwing around in here," Santana growls irritably. "If you think you're gonna christen my bedroom, you can think again."

Quinn rolls her eyes, reluctantly letting her arms fall away from her wife. "We would never do that."

A slow smile pulls at Santana's lips. "You'd be too late anyway," she informs them wickedly.

"If you ever want to rechristen it," Teresa's voice calls out, "you'll leave it at that," she warns, appearing beside Santana with a playful grin. "We talked about this, Tiger. What happens in our bedroom stays in our bedroom," she recites teasingly.

Quinn chuckles at the rebuke.

"It wasn't technically our bedroom at the time," Santana reminds her girlfriend with a smirk.

Teresa only shakes her head in exasperation while Rachel wrinkles her nose in distaste. "I really hope you scrubbed down the floors."

Santana glances at Teresa, and they share a secretive smile. "Who said anything about the floor?" Santana asks with a wolfish grin.

Rachel takes an extra step away from the wall that they're standing nearest to, pulling Quinn with her. "And on that note, we really should get back to unpacking those boxes."

"Actually, I think we could all use a break," Teresa acknowledges, running a hand through her hair. "I ordered us some pizzas. Vegetable for you, Rachel," she adds, and Quinn certainly appreciates her thoughtfulness, especially when she confirms the pizzas are, "On us."

"On us?" Santana echoes with a frown.

Teresa flashes a sly grin. "On _you_ , actually," she amends, placing a quick kiss to the corner of Santana's mouth before she winks at Quinn and Rachel, pats Santana on the ass, and saunters down the hallway.

"What the hell?" Santana mutters, staring after her girlfriend in bemusement.

Quinn glances at Rachel, who's valiantly trying to suppress her laughter, and immediately gives in to her own. Sliding her hand into Rachel's, she begins to lead her wife out of the room, giving Santana a supportive pat on the shoulder as she passes by. "Welcome to domestic bliss."

Santana scowls at her for a second before a satisfied smile curves her lips, and she shrugs. "Yeah," she agrees.

They end up in the living room along with everyone else, sitting on whatever surface is available and crowded in by boxes—really, Santana owns way too much stuff and Teresa is somehow just as bad—in anticipation of being fed. When the pizzas arrive a few minutes later, they all dig in, enjoying the food and the company after a hard day of work.

Quinn glances around the room, listening to the laughter and various conversations, and she lets herself think about the possibility that they might be doing all of this again in a few months if she and Rachel can find the perfect apartment to bring their family home to. Maybe she might even be pregnant when they do.

It's after ten when she and Rachel finally get home from the newly minted Lopez-Rinaldi abode, and while the last few hours had been something of an unpacking party with far more goofing around than actual work, they're both tired from the long day of helping their friends.

Kicking off her shoes inside the bedroom, Quinn lifts her hands over her head and stretches, feeling a few joints pop with the movement. Groaning softly, she drops her hands and reaches around to massage a particularly sore spot in the center of her lower back. She never really lifted anything over ten pounds today—she'd just lifted _a lot_ of boxes not over ten pounds. Santana could open her own boutique with the amount of clothes she's collected over the years. It makes Quinn's wardrobe look paltry by comparison.

There's a soft gasp behind her that belatedly tells her that Rachel is done with her nightly routine in the bathroom. "You overexerted, didn't you?" she asks worriedly, immediately coming to Quinn's side. "How much pain are you in?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'm fine," she assures her wife. "Just a little sore. I promise," she adds at Rachel's skeptical expression.

Rachel sighs, shaking her head. "Take your shirt off and lie down," she instructs firmly, pointing to the bed.

"Rach…"

"Don't argue with me, Quinn," Rachel cuts her off sternly.

Chuckling, Quinn shakes her own head before she obeys her wife, tugging her t-shirt over her head and tossing it aside. "Bra too?" Quinn husks, hoping to persuade Rachel into taking care of her in ways other than the massage that she so obviously intends to perform. Of course, Rachel's back massages are wonderful, so Quinn isn't going to try too hard to dissuade her, and they do usually include a very happy ending.

Rachel's lips twitch up into a reluctant smile. "I suppose that would make it easier for me to work out your…kinks," she decides, letting her smile turn a little wicked over the last word.

Grinning, Quinn deftly unhooks her bra and lets it join her shirt on the floor. "Where did you want me again?" she purrs, trailing a finger across her naked breasts.

Rachel sucks in a breath, letting her eyes trail wantonly over Quinn's exposed torso before she forces her attention back to Quinn's face with a small frown. "No distracting me," she chastises, wagging a finger at Quinn before she points back to the bed. "At least not until I'm done with you," she amends with a sexy smirk.

Quinn steps into Rachel's space and bestows a languid kiss on her lips, reveling in the little moan that slips out of Rachel's mouth, before she pulls back, licks her own lips to savor the taste of her wife, and turns for the bed where she positions herself face down on the mattress.

"You're still such a tease," Rachel complains good-naturedly as she crawls onto the mattress and straddles Quinn's legs.

Quinn's smug laughter turns into a groan when Rachel's hands press down against exactly the right spot on her back. After so many years together, Rachel has gotten really good at zeroing in on Quinn's problem areas. "Oh, right there," she mumbles encouragingly as she closes her eyes and allows Rachel to work the knots out of her aching muscles.

After a few moments, Rachel's soft voice joins in with her ministrations. "You know, it's probably going to be worse than this if you get pregnant again."

Quinn's eyes flutter open. " _When_ I get pregnant," she corrects. "And it's manageable."

She hears Rachel's heavy sigh as her hands stop massaging Quinn's muscles and instead drift over the faintly scarred skin on her back and left side. "What if it isn't?" she asks quietly.

Quinn lifts her head off the mattress, craning her neck to look back over her shoulder at Rachel's somber expression. "Then I'll manage it anyway." She's damned good at powering through unpleasant things. She'll do whatever she needs to do to carry a second pregnancy to term, even if it means being stuck in bed for half of it—which it _won't_ , because Quinn is in perfect health.

Rachel glances away, shaking her head before she moves off of Quinn to collapse onto the mattress next to her. "I just worry about you," she says, staring at the ceiling. "You have a tendency to push yourself more than you should."

Quinn turns onto her side to study her wife's profile, reaching out a hand to stroke her arm as she considers what Rachel said. "You're right," she admits, drawing worried brown eyes to her. "I do sometimes overdo it with the physical activities, but I promise you, Rach, I won't take any unnecessary risks once I'm pregnant." Not like she stupidly had with Beth, stubbornly staying on the cheerleading squad until she'd been forcibly kicked off and then performing vigorous dance routines into her third trimester. "My health and our baby's health will be my top priority."

With a small nod and a faint smile, Rachel vows, "Mine too."

Quinn doesn't doubt that for a moment, but, "Please try not to worry so much, sweetheart."

Rachel laughs ruefully. "That's like telling me not to breathe."

Gazing at her wife, Quinn can see the traces of fear still clinging to her, and she thinks again about Santana's comment—that Rachel had _caved_ , agreeing to do what Quinn wants before she's truly ready. It's a worry that she's been stubbornly ignoring for weeks.

"Rachel," she begins, pausing to moisten her lips as she holds Rachel's gaze, "I know you've said you're ready to start our family…relatively speaking," she amends, realizing that Rachel probably won't feel completely ready for this until they bring their baby home, "but…this is the moment when we really have to decide if we're slowing this back down or not. I mean, if we sign the waiver and get Steven to do his thing, I think we're moving forward pretty quickly from there. Are you really ready for this?" she asks uncertainly, feeling her stomach tense.

She watches Rachel's chest rise and fall with the breath she takes. "As ready as I can be."

It's not quite the resolute answer that Quinn was hoping for. "We…we can still decide to wait," she offers sadly, caught between her own desire to have their baby and her need to make sure she isn't imposing her own will on Rachel.

Shaking her head, Rachel immediately turns onto her side and shifts closer. "Quinn, I want to move forward," she swears, lifting a hand to cup Quinn's face. "Waiting a few more months…or even years…won't change anything for me. I'll still have the same worries and the same fears I have right now," she admits, gently stroking her thumb back and forth over Quinn's cheek. "And…we're already in this. I'm committed. Please stop giving me chances to back out," she pleads with a tremulous smile.

Quinn stares into Rachel's eyes for a long moment, finding nothing but sincerity and love there, and a wave of relief washes over her. "Okay," she whispers, inching forward to place a gentle kiss on Rachel's lips.

When the kiss ends, Rachel's mouth curves into a slow smile, and she trails her fingers across Quinn's jaw. "So…we'll call the clinic in the morning and get that waiver signed," she decides, sounding a little more certain of herself.

A happy grin pulls at Quinn's lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Rachel repeats, stealing another brief kiss as her fingers travel lower, dancing over Quinn's naked breasts. "But tonight," she pauses seductively, letting her hand slide even lower on Quinn's body, "I believe we have other, pressing business to attend to."

Quinn's eyes fall closed as Rachel expertly chases the last of her tension away and replaces it with desire. She reaches for her wife, determined to level the playing field.

She does—quite magnificently.

_xx_

The next morning, they call Chelsea Fertility to verify that they can stop in to sign the waiver, and that's exactly what they do. Doctor Klein asks them to wait a few moments while she completes all of her paperwork, and Quinn blindly pages through a magazine in the waiting room while Rachel fiddles with her phone—her leg bouncing impatiently until Doctor Klein appears behind the receptionist's counter fifteen minutes later. She hands them a copy of the request that she'd emailed to the California Cryobank and informs them that she'd also spoken with a manager on the phone to ensure it was received and documented. "You shouldn't have any problems, but give me a call if you do," she instructs them.

Quinn is fairly impressed that Doctor Klein is so thorough, and she feels like they definitely made the right decision in coming here.

As it turns out, Steven has some time on Friday morning to go with them to the sperm bank and get their 'account' established. Quinn calls the facility to make sure they can be seen that day, and after the man she speaks with assures her it isn't a problem, she asks Steven to meet them there at ten.

California Cryobank seems to be a perfectly normal, respectable establishment, though much to Rachel's chagrin, it also doesn't look anything like a medical facility from the outside. It also doesn't really look like one on the inside either, appearing more like an office than any kind of clinic. Quinn has to admit that she does feel a little odd sitting in the waiting room with Rachel, whose leg is bouncing up and down incessantly, while they wait for Steven to arrive, especially when he ends up being late.

"He's changed his mind," Rachel laments, twisting her rings around on her finger. "He didn't even have the courtesy to call us and tell us. He just let us show up here all hopeful and expectant and now he's…he's…standing us up! In a sperm bank, Quinn," she hisses with a frown.

Quinn sighs. "He's only five minutes late."

Rachel purses her lips. "He's _never_ late. Unless he's going to meet his agent, but he only does that to annoy Ian," she points out unhappily. "He's always extremely punctual for people he likes."

Quinn is saved from having to respond to that when the door to the facility opens and Steven comes slinking in—actually _slinking,_ like he's trying not to be seen. Unfortunately, he's particularly hard to miss in a long, black trench coat with the collar flipped up, a fedora pulled low on his head, dark sunglasses, and a day's worth of sandy stubble on his chin.

"Oh, my God," Quinn murmurs incredulously, staring at the man they've chosen to father their child in disbelief.

Rachel's leg stops bouncing. She stops twisting her rings. Quinn thinks she might have even stopped breathing—until she exhales sharply. "What in Barbra's name are you wearing?"

Steven tugs at his collar, stealthily glancing around the waiting area—which is currently empty except for them and the clerk behind the desk who is trying valiantly not to look amused by them. "You said you wanted my discretion. I'm trying to keep my anonymity intact."

"You look like one of those creepy flashers that stalk the park," Quinn points out with a frown. "How is that outfit discreet?"

Steven frowns, tugging off his hat and immediately ruffling his hair to fluff it. "Well, a creepy flasher walking into a sperm bank is probably still less conspicuous that Steven Piper walking into one," he points out. "Can you imagine the headline if a Paparazzo catches me here?"

"He does have a point," Rachel reluctantly admits.

"Never fear," Steven continues with a grin, reaching into his trench coat to pull out some rolled up papers—thank God that's all he pulls out! "I brought NDAs for the staff."

"Oh," Rachel breathes out, glancing at Quinn with dawning awareness.

"That's…actually really smart," Quinn realizes, a little disappointed in herself for not having thought about that. After all, they _are_ asking a fairly well-known celebrity to father their child, and she really doesn't want their baby-to-be turned into the latest headline in one of those celebrity gossip magazines.

"I'm not just a pretty face," Steven jokes affably. "I'll have you know that I possess an above average IQ in addition to my vast talent."

"Don't forget your healthy ego," Quinn adds helpfully.

Rachel chuckles. "You already got the job, Steven. Well, assuming you pass all of your tests today."

He presses a hand over his heart. "You doubt me?"

Quinn rolls her eyes, standing up from her chair. "Ask us again after you take off that awful trench coat."

Frowning, Steven glances down at himself. "I suppose it's not exactly my best look," he acknowledges before shrugging it off his shoulders. The dress slacks and stylish shirt underneath are far more acceptable.

For just a moment, Quinn again considers the wisdom of combining Steven's genes with Rachel's—the dramatic personalities and healthy professional egos and occasional crazy schemes—and a smile curves her lips. Yeah, that will pretty much be the perfect way to ensure that they'll end up with a mini-Rachel.

They officially check in with the clerk, who agrees to sign Steven's NDA mostly because they've made his morning a hundred times more interesting already. Regardless, Steven keeps his sunglasses on until they're ushered back to a tiny office by a(n admittedly star struck) technician who also agrees to sign the NDA as long as she can have an autograph from both Steven and Rachel, though she's not quite as big a fan of Rachel.

As it turns out, the paperwork the technician pushes under their noses is almost as elaborate as what Quinn and Rachel had needed to sign at Chelsea Fertility. They sign a contract to establish their account at the facility and Steven as their direct donor, and Steven signs the appropriate consent forms for his sample and for the genetic and infectious disease screenings that he'll have to undergo before he's given a little cup and directed to a private room to provide his initial sample for testing. Quinn and Rachel are allowed to wait in the office until Steven returns since they're something of a special case—Steven being a celebrity and all.

Fifteen minutes later, Steven returns with a triumphant smile. "Phase one complete," he reports, saluting them.

"You did wash your hands, right?" Quinn verifies with a smirk.

He rolls his eyes. "Funny. I'll have you know that it's no easy task to...perform on cue," he informs them tactfully. "Although, I was pretty impressed with the variety of visual aids they offered in that private room of theirs."

"Okay, we really don't need the details of that," Quinn chastises with a grimace, not wanting to know what kind of visual aids he's referring to, but considering that he's a gay man, she can guess it involved some scantily clad men.

Rachel drops a hand over Quinn's thigh, rubbing it soothingly as she glances up at Steven. "Nevertheless, we are very grateful to you for doing this for us."

He chuckles. "I'd say it was my pleasure, but that might be in bad taste, all things considered."

"I'm so glad we only have to be here for the first visit," Quinn mutters.

"Speaking of that," Steven interjects, "I'd be happy to bank some extra swimmers if you want me to," he offers, referring to the option the technician had given when they'd completed the paperwork.

Rachel's hand stills on Quinn's thigh, and Quinn glances over at her uncertainly. If there's even a chance that Rachel might agree to someday have a second child, then Quinn thinks it might not be a bad idea to have Steven do that for them now. It would be kind of nice for their children to have the same donor, and if Rachel decides she'd like to one day experience a pregnancy of her own—well, Quinn can't think of anything she'd love more than having two beautiful, little pieces of her wife to love and cherish.

It wasn't something she was intending to bring up right now, but since Steven had already gone there, "I think we should consider it," she tells Rachel.

She can see her wife's throat muscles work beneath her skin as she swallows. "I…I can't really think past _this_ time," she confesses quietly.

"Well, it's not like you need to know right now that you'll use it," Steven points out helpfully—probably not even realizing that he's arguing Quinn's case. "It would just be there in case you want to." He shrugs. "Just let me know what you decide."

Rachel nods jerkily, looking to Quinn. "Just in case," she repeats quietly.

"And Steven wouldn't have to go through the fertility test again," Quinn tells her. "Just the blood work…unless he manages to hit his quota in the same seven day period."

Steven raises an eyebrow. "Oh, ye of little faith."

Rachel laughs a little, shaking her head before she looks back over to Steven. "I think…maybe you could bank some."

He grins. "Consider it done."

Ten minutes later, the technician steps back into the office and informs them that Steven's sperm count is well above the average range. She hands him an order for the blood work that he'll need and tells him he can have that done at any time, "But you'll need to come back to complete your sperm donation within seven days of the blood draw. We'll give you a call to let you know the test results once we have them," she directs to Steven specifically, and Quinn understands that, unless Steven decides to share that with them, she and Rachel will only find out through Doctor Klein if they'll be able to use his donation. "That usually only takes two or three days," the technician continues with an encouraging smile. "If they're good, we'll release any samples provided in the seven day range to Chelsea Fertility."

Excited butterflies take flight in Quinn's belly, because so far, every result they've gotten has been exactly what she's wanted to hear. She can only hope Steven's blood tests will be equally perfect.

Steven pulls his trench coat back on before they step out of the office, glancing over the order for blood work in his hand before folding it and slipping it into a pocket. "I guess I'll be a busy boy next week," he jokes with a smile, wagging his eyebrows suggestively before dropping his sunglasses back over his eyes.

"Less details are better," Quinn reminds him drolly.

"Yes, Mom," he answers with a meaningful grin.

Struck by the word and the fact that it might soon be true, Quinn sucks in a breath before throwing her arms around Steven and hugging him with all her might.

"Woah," he grunts from the impact, reflexively folding his own arms around her.

"Thank you," she mumbles into his chest, suddenly overwhelmed by how generous he's being to do this for them.

"You're very welcome," he responds gently.

Quinn feels another set of arms wrap around her from behind as Rachel's body presses into her. "This is just so beautiful," she sniffles, trying to hug them both with her too-short arms.

"You know," Steven drawls with humor in his voice, "if I were a different kind of man, having two gorgeous women throw themselves at me like this would be more than enough material to get me through the next week without the need for any other visual aids."

Quinn groans against his chest, giving him a firm push as she breaks the hug. "Don't ever film a comedy," she warns him with a smile, lifting a hand to brush away her happy tears while Rachel simply adjusts her arms so that she can continue to hold Quinn.

Steven's lips turn down into a thoughtful frown. "But that's what I'm filming next month," he reveals. "Is it my timing?" he asks seriously. "Or my inflection?"

"It's your jokes," Quinn informs him flatly.

Rachel giggles. "Don't worry," she encourages Steven. "Someone else will be writing those for your movie."

"Thankfully, not either of you," Steven counters with a grin. He picks up his hat and smoothly flips it over his hand on the way to his head—Quinn has to admit she's pretty impressed with the trick—before tugging the brim down lower on his forehead.

Despite the fact that he's back to looking like a creeper, Quinn smiles at him fondly as she and Rachel follow him out. He slips through the main doors after promising that he'll give them a call to let them know when he's done his duty. Quinn trusts him to keep his word, just as he has about everything else up until this moment, and she thinks they really did pick the perfect guy to help them start their family.

Now they just have to wait for him to be done with his part before they can begin theirs.


	5. Now I Know What I've Been Missing

**Part V: Now I Know What I've Been Missing**

* * *

Rachel finds herself in St. Vartan Park on a Wednesday in mid-October. The long, hot summer had extended its reach just far enough into the fall for the trees to cling to their greenery a little too long, and they're just beginning to display the splendor of their yellows and oranges and reds. Sadly, it won't be long before the branches begin to grow bare for the coming winter.

She glances down at the pharmacy bag in her hand—the reason she'd ventured out this morning and the excuse that she'd used to sneak away from her wife for a little while. Oh, that sounds bad, even in her own head. She's not exactly _sneaking_ away from Quinn. She'd just needed about thirty minutes or so of fresh air away from keen, hazel eyes to ponder the significance of what they're about to do.

Although—all they're technically about to do right now is start taking birth control pills, which is incredibly ironic for two queer women in a monogamous relationship who are trying to get pregnant, but it's the first step to prepare them for their actual fertility treatment.

They'd officially gotten the greenlight on Monday evening. Steven's little swimmers are all safely on deposit and cleared for use, so they'd had a consultation with Doctor Klein on Tuesday morning in which they'd been given a list of all the drugs they'll be taking and a lesson with their IVF nurse, Hayley, on how to administer the injections. Quinn had also been instructed to start taking prenatal vitamins, which they'd picked up at the pharmacy after their consultation at the same time they'd dropped off their matching prescriptions for contraceptives. They'll both begin those on day three of their next cycles.

As luck would have it, both their periods are due to begin next week, assuming Rachel's body hasn't been completely thrown off kilter by the stress she's been under these last few months.

She's still alternating between nervous and worried and terrified every time she thinks about becoming a mother, but there's also a steadily growing surge of excitement and longing mixed in with those feelings. She's trying to stay focused on that and, of course, the picture that she keeps in her mind of Quinn holding their baby. It's more than enough to keep her moving forward.

There aren't very many families in the park today—the older kids have been back in school for a while now—but there are a few mothers (and one or two fathers) enjoying the mild weather with their toddlers, pushing them on the swings and hovering protectively as they navigate the slide. Rachel watches them fondly for a while, and this time, when she imagines Quinn there playing with their child (who's still being stubbornly blonde), she can actually picture herself standing right there beside them.

Rachel is still a little dazed that this all seems to be happening so quickly. She'd been expecting more delays with the tests and the scheduling and even with Steven, but both Doctor Klein and the Cryobank seem to have everything down to a science. She supposes that's appropriate since all of this actually _is_ a science.

She feels as ready for this as she can be right now—which is to say, not really ready at all in the literal sense but eager to embrace the future she longs to share with Quinn. And she wants there to be a child in that future—a living, breathing extension of the love that she and Quinn feel for each other. All of her lingering fears about her ability to adequately take care of that child can just suck it.

Leaning back against the bench with the bag still clutched in her hand, Rachel lets her thoughts drift to Quinn—the beautiful sparkle in her eyes and the persistent smile that's been on her lips for the last month—and she's even more certain that she's making the right decision. There's really no reason for them to wait.

Of course, their bank account had taken a nice hit, but it's manageable enough. She'd spoken with Harry about their general finances (without telling him the specific reason that she's looking to increase their savings) and with their broker, who'd moved a few investments around to get them a better return. All in all, she thinks that they're in fairly good financial shape to support a baby.

The apartment—well, that's another story. With all of the various medical appointments and tests they've been scheduling, they haven't really had much time to actually go looking for a larger apartment that also happens to be pet-friendly, and Rachel doesn't expect them to find the time in the next several months. She's still double checking her research on the best neighborhoods for raising children, but surprisingly enough, it does seem like the Upper West Side has everything they'd be looking for right now. It's relatively safe with several good schools, reasonably affordable, convenient enough to Midtown, and so very close to Central Park. And yes—Santana and Teresa are living there now, and Rachel suspects that Teresa (if not Santana) might have the makings of a perfectly suitable babysitter.

But they still have time to get their living situation straightened out. They can't be rushing into a potentially hasty decision on the home that they'll be raising their family in, and she supposes their current apartment is adequate for them to bring a baby home to—it just doesn't have much room to grow.

A quick glance at the time on her phone tells Rachel that she really should be getting home. If she lingers here any longer, she might arouse Quinn's suspicions. It's not that she feels she has anything to hide, but she knows that Quinn is still worried that her fears are going to rise up and overwhelm her again and—well, Rachel is trying to make sure that Quinn never catches a glimpse of any little moments where they might.

She really wants this to be a positive experience for Quinn—for _both_ of them.

The walk back home only takes her about ten minutes, and Rachel uses the short time to prepare a very convincing story in her head about the length of the line at the pharmacy (there hadn't been one) and the ineptitude of the young pharmacist (who'd recognized her immediately, greeted her by name, and had both prescriptions ready and waiting for her) to provide to Quinn in case she asks what had taken Rachel so long.

Upon entering the apartment, Rachel sees her wife curled up on the sofa and focused intently on her laptop, and she realizes that she probably won't even need her carefully crafted story. Quinn does tend to lose track of time when she's writing, so Rachel won't be surprised if she hadn't even noticed how long it had taken her just to run to the pharmacy.

Rachel holds up the bag with a triumphant grin when Quinn glances up at her. "Mission accomplished. Say hello to headaches, weight gain, and sore breasts," she jokes, recalling some of the more unpleasant side effects that she'd experienced the last time she'd been on contraceptive pills.

Quinn chuckles, shaking her head as she sets her laptop aside. "We won't be taking them for very long."

With a sigh, Rachel sinks down onto the sofa beside her wife, setting the bag on the coffee table. "Maybe not, but apparently the Lupron injections can have the same side effects, only more severe. You know, in addition to the pain and skin irritation from the inch long needle we'll be repeatedly jabbing into our flesh." She shudders at the thought of it, even as Quinn laughs again. "I'm glad you find that humorous," she mutters with a pout.

"I find _you_ humorous," Quinn corrects with an affectionate smile before she slips an arm around Rachel and leans closer, brushing a soft kiss over her cheek. "And wonderful," she murmurs lovingly, "for agreeing to do this with me."

"Well, I _am_ pretty wonderful," Rachel agrees with a grin. "Please try to remember that when we're both experiencing horrendous, hormone-induced mood swings." She isn't exactly joking. She has a feeling the next few months could prove to be very interesting, to say the least.

"I'll try," Quinn promises with laughter in her voice, but a moment later, her expression grows serious. "I mean it though, Rach. I know that going through this while you're doing your show won't be the best experience for you," she acknowledges, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from Rachel's temple, "but you're doing it anyway. Because it's what I want." She pauses, eyes glistening with emotion. "You really are wonderful, and I'm so very in love with you."

"The feeling is very mutual," Rachel assures her with a tender smile, "but I'm not just doing this for you, Quinn. I'm doing it for _us_."

The moment Quinn hears that, she gathers Rachel into her arms and kisses her. It's so easy for Rachel to channel everything that she feels for Quinn into the kiss, deepening it until every trace of tenderness is transformed into the passion that never fails to spark between them, even after nearly five and a half years together. They still have more than six hours before she has to be at the theatre, and she hazily wonders if Quinn would be amenable to finding a mutually satisfactory way to pass the time. She suspects the answer would be in the affirmative when Quinn begins to press her back into the sofa, but before they can truly begin to explore all of the delightful possibilities, the sound of paper crinkling registers in Rachel's ears.

Reluctantly dragging her mouth away from her wife to investigate the sensory disturbance, she sees Oliver standing on the coffee table with his little teeth gnawing on the corner of the pharmacy bag. "Oliver, no!" she growls, hastily extricating herself from Quinn's arms to snatch the bag away from their overly curious cat. She doesn't doubt for a moment that he would think their contraceptive pills are cat treats and try to eat through the packaging! "Those aren't for you, mister," she chastises, ignoring his little mewl of protest.

Beside her, Quinn begins to laugh, shaking her head. "You should probably put those in the medicine cabinet until we need them," she suggests.

Rachel sighs, annoyed with the untimely interruption, but, "I suppose all the cat-proofing we've had to do in our apartment might be considered good practice for baby-proofing."

Quinn gifts her with widest smile. "Definitely," she agrees, reaching out to scratch Oliver behind his ears with affection.

Resigned to doing the responsible thing, Rachel pulls herself off the sofa and away from Quinn. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be right here," Quinn promises with a grin, allowing Oliver to jump directly into Rachel's abandoned spot on the sofa and curl up next to her.

A small frown forms on Rachel's lips as she heads to the bathroom, thinking about Oliver's tireless attachment to Quinn and suddenly realizing that she'll also have to do a little research on cats and pregnant women. Poor Oliver might find himself banned from Quinn's lap for a while. Well—while she still _has_ a lap anyway.

She wisely doesn't mention that to Quinn just yet.

_xx_

Quinn gets her period right on schedule. Rachel, however, ends up three days late, but they're still only two days apart in their cycles. When they stop by the clinic as instructed, Hayley gives them each a calendar that tells them the exact dates and doses to begin the Lupron injections and when to end the contraceptives. At that point, both of their calendars consist of estimated dates that mostly depend on when (and if) Rachel gets her period next month, but the plan, Hayley informs them, is to time Rachel's first gonadotropin injection for just after Thanksgiving to avoid the holidays that will fall on both sides of the treatment.

"Doctor Klein is also hoping to have your estimated retrieval date fall on a Monday," she goes on to tell them with a smile, and Rachel feels her esteem for their doctor jump up several notches. If it works out that way, she might not have to miss any shows. "But of course, there's really no way to predict that," Hayley cautions, so Rachel knows not to get her hopes up too high.

Their refrigerator is already stuffed full of drug vials, and Rachel is grateful that Santana doesn't feel the need to come nose around their kitchen anymore because there would be no hiding that from her. Rachel suspects that's probably a moot point anyway. She has a feeling Quinn probably said just enough for Santana to guess what they're up to, though Santana hasn't actually made any comments about it yet. Either Teresa is keeping her otherwise occupied or she'd actually meant it when she'd vowed that she wasn't getting involved in their baby drama.

Obviously, there's a part of Rachel that really wants to confide in someone about all of this, but she's still terrified that this whole endeavor is going to end up failing spectacularly. There are just so many variables and so much of it depends on timing and luck. She doesn't want to deal with anyone else's disappointment on top of Quinn's and her own—because she's committed enough to starting their family to know that she _will_ be disappointed if they can't get pregnant.

Quinn is nothing but hopeful right now. She'd already started making some dietary changes in early October in anticipation of a pregnancy, increasing her protein intake and cutting way back on caffeine and alcohol (and thus forcing Rachel to do the same)—not that either of them ever has more than the occasional glass or two of wine with dinner. Quinn is completely ready for this.

Rachel is—mostly ready.

As expected, the contraceptive pills make her feel less than excellent. Her bras begin to irritate her more, almost all of her days end with a mild headache, and she gains two pounds in two weeks.

Quinn, of course, suffers no side effects whatsoever.

If Rachel wasn't so incredibly in love with her, she'd probably hate her.

What she _does_ hate is injecting herself with the Lupron. The first one of those happens on November 17th, and the fact that Quinn has to do it too really doesn't make Rachel feel any better. Quinn manages to administer them with the same grace and ease with which she does everything else while Rachel struggles to keep her hands steady and get the needle in without repeatedly bruising herself. Beyond the annoyance of sticking herself with a sharp instrument every morning, Rachel has the joy of adding hot flashes to her headaches and sore breasts.

Because she's a consummate professional, she refuses to miss any of her shows, even though she knows she's not at her best and really just wants to crawl into bed and stay there until this entire process is over. It goes without saying that she's exhausted and grumpy every night when she comes home from the theatre, but Quinn somehow manages to stay positive in the face of Rachel's growing moodiness, and she does her best to pamper Rachel despite the fact that she's been dealing with a few occasional headaches of her own since starting the Lupron.

Thankfully, some of Rachel's symptoms grow noticeably milder shortly after finishing her last birth control pill, so she's feeling better than she has in weeks (which isn't really saying much) by the time Thanksgiving rolls around. It's a very good thing, since Rachel is called upon to perform a song from _Confessions_ at Herald Square for the live broadcast of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. She'd had to make it through an extra performance on Wednesday afternoon to make up for the show they'll be missing Thursday evening, so she's still feeling more drained than she'd typically like for such a momentous occasion, but the fresh, brisk air instantly invigorates her and the cheering crowd is more than enough motivation to deliver a brilliant performance. (Of course, it helps that it's only one number—she can get through ten minutes of anything with a brilliant smile.)

What's even better is seeing Quinn there in the bleachers while she performs and knowing that they'll be able to watch the rest of the parade together before heading up to Fairfield to have dinner with her dads.

Quinn had briefly considered hosting Thanksgiving at their apartment this year like she has in the past, but with all the drugs currently stuffed in their refrigerator and all the stress that they're already putting themselves through with the fertility treatment, cooking a big dinner is something that Quinn really doesn't need to be worrying about. As it turns out, all of their friends had other invitations anyway. Santana is having dinner with Teresa's father and brothers in New Jersey, Sarah and Josie had traveled up to Boston to stay with Josie's parents for the weekend, and Kurt and Harry had caught the short flight to Buffalo on Wednesday night to spend the holiday with Harry's mother.

Battling the crowd after the parade isn't exactly fun, but they manage to get to Grand Central Terminal in time to catch the next Metro North train into Connecticut—which is miraculously only running ten minutes late. The train station is a zoo, of course, but it's still better than having to navigate the holiday traffic driving out of the city, and her daddy is there to meet them at the station in Fairfield and chauffeur them to the Berry house. Rachel is grateful for the chance to relax for a few hours.

The moment they walk into the house, the scent of turkey (which Rachel won't be eating) and stuffing and sweet potatoes assaults them, and Rachel sighs happily. Her dads might not have a large repertoire of home cooked meals, but the ones they have they do _well_. Thanksgiving dinner has always been one of them. Daddy makes the second best tofurkey around—next to Quinn, of course.

She barely has the chance to enjoy the delicious aroma of dinner and shuck off her coat before her dad has her engulfed in a bear hug that she laughingly returns. "Hi, Dad," she breathes, giving him a squeeze.

Leroy sets her back away from him and looks over her with a critical eye, just as he always does, but, "You look a little peaked, baby girl. Are you coming down with something?" he asks worriedly, pressing a palm to her forehead as he turns his concerned gaze on Quinn. "Did you let my baby girl get sick, Quinn?"

Rachel frowns as her eyes dart to Quinn, instantly recognizing the hint of guilt in her expression. She's a little miffed that she's apparently looking so obviously rough around the edges while Quinn is still looking fresh and healthy and gorgeous, but she immediately jumps to her wife's defense. "I'm not sick, Dad," she promises, brushing his hand away. "I'm just a little tired." And it's technically true. Their baby-making endeavors are exhausting—and so very much not in the fun the way. "I had two shows yesterday and a performance this morning, in case you missed it," she adds suspiciously.

"We most certainly did not miss it," Hiram assures her. "You were brilliant, as always."

"You certainly were," Leroy agrees, glancing back at Quinn with a warm smile. "So I suppose I'll let you off the hook, Quinn. Now come here and give me a hug, darling girl," he demands, opening his arms to her. Quinn happily steps into them, telling him how good it is to see him and asking how he's been. Rachel feels warmth settle over her as she watches them together. The urge to tell her fathers the truth about what she and Quinn are doing comes bubbling to the surface, but she swallows it down, knowing how quickly they'll become invested and how devastated they'll be if they get bad news.

It's better to wait.

For all of their sakes.

"I hope you're hungry," Hiram informs them, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulder in order to gently usher her into the living room. "I've been up cooking since four o'clock this morning."

"It was six," Leroy corrects, rolling his eyes. "Don't let him fool you."

"Sit down," Hiram urges, pointing the sofa. "Rest. You don't have to worry about anything today."

That's not entirely true, of course. Rachel never quite stops worrying these days, especially when she knows that she and Quinn will soon be starting the next phase of their treatment. She worries about how she'll respond to the hormones, and she worries about how successful the egg retrieval and fertilization will be, and she worries so much about Quinn and whether or not she'll conceive and how heartbroken she'll be if she doesn't.

How heartbroken they'll both be.

Shaking off the unwanted thoughts, Rachel settles down on the sofa next to Quinn, happily leaning into her wife and silently resolving to enjoy the lovely afternoon with her fathers.

When it comes time for them to sit down to dinner and voice what they're thankful for this year, Quinn quite honestly says, "I'm thankful for my amazing wife and the life we're making together." She smiles knowingly at Rachel before glancing at Hiram and Leroy with a more playful grin. "And I'm very thankful I didn't have to do the cooking this year."

The room fills with laughter, but Rachel is still feeling warm and fuzzy from Quinn's first comment, so she reaches over to clasp Quinn's hand, holding her gaze until everyone grows quiet again. "I'm thankful for all of the incredible opportunities I've been given this year," she begins, thinking of Paris and her show and this stressful, wonderful, terrifying venture she's undertaking with Quinn, "for the love I have in my life, and for our family."

Next year, there might very well be a precious addition to their family for all of them to be thankful for, but right now, that hope is a cherished secret that she shares with Quinn.

Dinner is perfect and delicious. Rachel does find herself missing Kurt and Santana just a little, but she's happy that they've both found special someones to share their lives with. They'll always be part of Rachel and Quinn's family, but it's good that they seem to be on the way to building families of their own.

Quinn offers to help her dads clean up after they've eaten, but they insist that they'll take care of it later, and Rachel is secretly relieved that she and Quinn can keep being lazy for a little while longer.

They catch a late train back to Grand Central, stuffed and content, and the moment they're back in their apartment, Rachel virtually collapses into bed. She's already starting to drift off when she feels Quinn's body curl around hers and an arm slip around her waist. Rachel winces slightly when Quinn's hand accidentally grazes her hip and the tender patch of skin that's been repeatedly abused with needles, but the soft kiss to her shoulder goes a long way towards making up for the pain.

"Today was a really good day," Quinn murmurs happily, snuggling into her.

With her eyes still closed, Rachel smiles and pats Quinn's hand. "It was," she manages sleepily.

"I really am thankful for you," Quinn whispers. "I love you, Rach."

"Mmm. Love you too, baby," Rachel mumbles, fuzzily wishing that she had the energy to punctuate it with a kiss, but feeling the exhaustion that's been chasing her all day finally catch up with her until she's drifting into sleep with visions of pumpkin pie and Snoopy balloons and tiny, blonde children dancing in her head.

The next morning, Rachel feels moderately well-rested, and she might even be tempted to say that she's almost feeling good for a change if not for the arrival of her period. It puts something of a damper on the Black Friday shopping that she's trying to enjoy before her evening performance, but she powers through it anyway.

In retrospect, deciding to go ahead with their first treatment over the holiday season was possibly not the wisest decision, but it's too late to do anything about it now.

Rachel calls the clinic as instructed—in the restroom at a boutique on Fifth Avenue—and they immediately schedule her for another ultrasound and more blood work bright and early the next morning, promising to get her in and out well before she'll need to be at the theatre for her matinee. She's somewhat dubious about that, so when she arrives at the theatre that night, she lets her production manager, Bernie, know that there's a small chance her understudy might need to be prepared for tomorrow, vaguely citing an important appointment in the morning that might run unavoidably late.

It doesn't run late.

The technician at the clinic—a nice woman named Marsha who now knows Rachel far more intimately than Rachel would like—really is extremely efficient. Rachel has the pleasure of undergoing her ultrasound on the second day of her period, and it's possibly the most uncomfortable and embarrassing undertaking of her life thus far. Quinn is not nearly as sympathetic as Rachel thinks she should be, reminding her that, "I've given birth, sweetie. Trust me, that's a lot more uncomfortable."

Rachel silently concedes the point on the level of discomfort, but she still thinks this experience ranks much higher on the embarrassment scale. She can't believe that Quinn doesn't agree.

Quinn is instructed to begin her estrogen supplements while both of their Lupron dosages are reduced. Rachel is hopeful that will mean her persistent headaches and occasional hot flashes will fade even more, because Hayley also gives her the go ahead to begin the gonadotropin injections that evening and then every twelve hours thereafter until further notice, and Rachel has no idea how she'll react to those.

"We recommend taking the evening shot between six and ten in case we need to adjust dosages as your body responds to them," Hayley informs her. "Be careful not to vary the time by more than an hour at most. If you happen to be later than that or miss one entirely, call us right away and we'll let you know if you need to make any adjustments."

Rachel chews on her lip for a moment as she considers her schedule. She's been taking the Lupron in the mornings, which has been extremely convenient for her, but, "My evening show times vary a little through the week," she worries, glancing over at Quinn. Most performances begin at seven but Fridays and Saturdays are at eight, and while her call time is technically thirty minutes before curtain, she does like to be there earlier in order to suitably warm-up. She really doesn't want to have to inject herself in her dressing room.

"Would five-thirty be too early to take it?" Quinn asks, slipping her hand into Rachel's. "It would be easier for Rachel to work around that."

Rachel frowns slightly, realizing she'd still need to sacrifice some of her warm-up time, but it should only be for two weeks, after all, and it's for a noble cause.

Hayley considers Quinn's request for a moment before nodding. "I think we can work with that. I'll make a note to always call you by five-fifteen with any changes to your dosage."

"Thank you," Quinn says gratefully as she squeezes Rachel's hand.

Hayley instructs Rachel to come back in on Wednesday morning to check her hormone levels and have yet another ultrasound to monitor her follicles. She has a feeling she's going to come to despise those ultrasounds by the time this is finished.

Rachel makes it to her matinee with more than enough time to spare, but she's extra conscious of the time that she spends signing programs at the stage door because she absolutely needs to go home between her performances today, and it will take her thirty minutes to get there and just as long to get back. If she lingers too long, she'll be rushing too much, and she can already tell that this is going to be an extremely stressful ordeal on the weekends.

At exactly five-thirty that night, Rachel finds herself standing in the kitchen in front of Quinn with her shirt hiked up beneath her breasts. "I really can do this myself," she insists, rolling her eyes at her wife as she tears open the sterilized alcohol wipe. "I've been sticking myself with the Lupron for the last ten days without incident."

Quinn pauses to raise an eyebrow. "Is that what you call three broken needles and the daily channeling of Santana's most colorful profanities?"

Rachel feels her face heat, but it's probably just another hot flash. "I've gotten better with the needles," she mutters.

"But not the cussing," Quinn reminds her with a grin, gently tapping a patch of skin on the right side of Rachel's abdomen with her finger. "Is this spot okay?" she asks, wanting to avoid giving the injection in the same place Rachel typically takes her Lupron.

"As okay as it can be," Rachel answers with a faint smile. There really isn't a good spot to get stuck with a needle.

"We both know I'm faster at this than you are," Quinn points out kindly as she passes the alcohol wipe over Rachel's skin.

Quinn isn't wrong, and Rachel knows these injections are more time sensitive that the Lupron. Quinn had offered to give her those injections too, but Rachel had stubbornly refused to make her wife do twice the work. She's not being quite as stubborn about this one.

Picking up the syringe that she'd expertly prepared, Quinn catches her lower lip between her teeth in concentration as she carefully slides the needle into Rachel's flesh with a steady hand before pressing the plunger. "Shit," Rachel hisses in displeasure at the sting, even though Quinn is quick to pull the needle back out.

"All done," Quinn promises with a grin, putting the syringe to the side to be disposed of later.

Rachel tugs her shirt back down with a frown. "I can't wait to see what this one does to me," she grumbles, rubbing lightly at the tender skin near her navel.

"Hopefully, it will get you producing lots of healthy, little eggs for us to use," Quinn reminds her, carefully resting her hands low on Rachel's hips before she leans in to give her a loving kiss.

Smiling into the kiss, Rachel lifts a hand to play with the hair at the nape of Quinn's neck, and when their lips part, she asks her wife, "Are you going to do this twice a day for the next two weeks?"

Quinn grins. "Absolutely. We're in this together."

Rachel raises a skeptical eyebrow. "So you're getting up at five in the morning with me?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Yes, Rachel. Just like you'll be getting up with me when I'm puking my guts out at three."

"Did you do that?" Rachel asks with a frown. She does seem to recall a few notable occasions when Quinn had needed to run out of their glee club meetings unexpectedly during the early days of her pregnancy with Beth, but she has no idea how often that might have happened when Quinn wasn't in her presence.

Quinn sighs in resignation. "Three in the morning, three in the afternoon, and just about every hour in between for three months straight."

"And you want to do that again?" Rachel asks incredulously.

Quinn laughs. "Well, it goes without saying that I'd prefer to skip the morning sickness this time around. But I meant what I told you," she vows, lifting a hand to cup Rachel's cheek, "I'm willing do whatever I need to do to have your baby."

No matter how many times Quinn says that, it still makes Rachel melt into a puddle inside. It's true that she wasn't completely onboard with the in vitro in the beginning—and to be honest, part of her still has doubts about the wisdom of this venture—but she can't help adoring the fact that her wife loves her enough to want to carry her child.

"And that's why I'm willing to go through all of this so I can try to give you that baby," Rachel informs her softly.

Quinn's eyes fall closed, and a blissful sigh passes her lips. "If you didn't have a show to get to…"

Rachel barks out a laugh. "We would be doing nothing more than cuddling because I feel gross and tired and currently have a headache. Again," she adds ruefully, watching Quinn's expression grow almost apologetic.

"You're in the homestretch," Quinn promises her, brushing another tender kiss to the corner of her lips.

It's not exactly true. Rachel is all too aware that this cycle might not work out the way Quinn is hoping. It's all going to depend on how she responds to the hormones.

How she responds is this—her headaches don't get any worse but her hot flashes do. She makes it through Saturday's performances without noticing much of a difference, but by Sunday, she can tell the hormones are already having an effect. She's a sweaty mess after her matinee and even worse by the end of the seven o'clock show, and she can't wait to go home and shower. She's not particularly looking forward to the next fourteen days.

She's so glad to have Monday off. Since they'd both gone shopping on Friday, and Rachel's commitment to her show had kept her busy through the weekend, they'd agreed to wait until Monday to put up their tree and their other Christmukkah decorations. It's always been a special day for them, pulling out ornaments and reminiscing over memories of past holidays while they battle to keep Oliver from climbing the tree or using the decorations as cat toys. This year is no different despite Rachel's general malaise, although they do end up arguing a little more than usual over fluffing the branches and replacing the burned out light bulbs and which ornaments they can leave in the boxes (and Rachel insisting on opening the windows despite the chilly air outside).

Rachel recognizes that she's actually the one being extra difficult—nitpicking details far more than she usually does—but she can't seem to stop herself. Unsurprisingly, Quinn finally loses her temper and snaps at Rachel for demanding that they take the garland off the tree and restring it because it's uneven, at which point, Rachel bursts into tears.

"I'm sorry," she sobs, wrapping her arms around her stomach defensively. "I don't know why I'm acting this way. I…I think it's the hormones. They're making me irritable and sweaty and…and bloated," she laments, pressing her arms more firmly against the uncomfortable pressure in her abdomen.

Quinn grows immediately contrite. "No. I'm sorry," she breathes, running a hand through her hair. "I know you're not feeling great. Why don't you lie down and get some rest? I can finish up the tree," she offers.

That only has fresh tears springing to Rachel's eyes, and she feels ridiculous because she can't control them. "I don't want to lie down," she cries, wiping at her cheeks. "I want to decorate with you!" It's their tradition.

"Oh, sweetie," Quinn coos, instantly wrapping Rachel up in her arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know you do. So why don't we both take a little break and then finish this in a bit?"

"Don't patronize me," Rachel mutters, clinging to Quinn with all her might.

Quinn can't quite suppress the chuckle that shakes her body, but she gives it a valiant effort. "I just wanna take care of you, Rach." She pulls back, smiling softly as she lifts a hand in an attempt to dry Rachel's tears with her thumb.

That only makes Rachel want to cry more. "I'm sorry," she says again, ducking her head in embarrassment. "I'm acting crazy."

Quinn purses her lips, biting back her smile, and Rachel suspects there's probably a sardonic retort dancing or her tongue, but Quinn resists the urge to give it voice. "You're fine," she promises, tugging Rachel down onto the sofa. "I can almost guarantee I'll be worse when I'm pregnant."

Rachel scoffs, tucking herself into Quinn's side because she suddenly can't stand to be not touching her—despite the fact that she's still uncomfortably warm. "You're not even having any side effects to the drugs we've been on," she grumbles. Quinn will probably end up having an easy pregnancy with no symptoms and feel perfect and look gorgeous and radiant and not even gain any weight. She'd certainly been beautiful during her first pregnancy.

"I've had some headaches for the last two weeks," Quinn reminds her gently. "And the estrogen is starting to make my breasts tender."

"I've been dealing with that for more than a month," Rachel grumbles. "I'm so ready for this part to be over."

Quinn sighs, holding her closer. "I know you are. Soon," she promises for what feels like the hundredth time. "And God willing, we'll be celebrating the holidays next year with a baby of our own."

Closing her eyes, Rachel can almost see herself holding a baby boy or girl (still blonde) and teaching him or her all about Hanukkah as they light the Menorah. Obviously, their child will be far too young to really understand what she's saying the first year, but they'll be forming important subconscious memories on which to build a solid foundation for the future. And later on, she and Quinn will softly croon Christmas (and Hanukkah) songs to their baby as they admire the twinkling lights on the tree, and on Christmas morning, they'll excitedly open the dozens of presents that 'Santa' left for their son or daughter while Rachel's fathers and Quinn's mom and Santana and Teresa and Kurt and Harry and everyone who matters to them look on with loving smiles.

"We'll be moms," Rachel whispers tearfully, burrowing her nose into the crook of Quinn's neck as she clings to her wife.

"Rach?" Quinn breathes out uncertainly. "Sweetheart?"

With a wet chuckle, Rachel shakes her head. "Happy tears," she explains, lifting her head. "I promise."

Quinn's eyes are moist as she gazes at Rachel, obviously searching her expression to make sure they really are happy tears and not another panic attack. "Yeah?" she questions softly.

"Yeah," Rachel repeats with a watery smile, pulling Quinn into a gentle kiss.

For a long while, they simply stay like that, wrapped in one another's arms and silently dreaming of their future. Eventually, they finish decorating the tree and spend the rest of the evening admiring the end result of their efforts while Christmas music plays in the background.

Even with Rachel's emotions wreaking havoc on her equilibrium, the day manages to be a much needed reprieve from the hectic schedule that she's been keeping. By the time she slips into bed next to Quinn—despite her fluctuating hormones and her too-hot skin and the uncomfortable heaviness in her abdomen—she feels a renewed sense of purpose. She knows that she'll need it in the days to come.

They'll find out on Wednesday how Rachel is responding to the hormones and maybe even get a better idea of when her egg retrieval might be. She's hoping everything works the way it's supposed to—for Quinn's sake as well as her own. But even if Rachel is able to get through her part of the treatment cycle successfully, they still have a long way to go to make those dreams of their future into a reality.

She only hopes they aren't disappointed.


	6. Since I've Been Listening

**Part VI: Since I've Been Listening**

* * *

There are brief, fleeting moments when Quinn silently wonders if maybe Rachel had been right—that going the IVF route is extra stress that they really don't need to put themselves through. She doesn't say it out loud because she suspects that Rachel is probably still feeling that way, and she doesn't actually want Rachel to be right about this.

But she can see how miserable Rachel is feeling, especially since she's been taking the hormone injections, and the guilt of that weighs heavily on Quinn's heart—because Quinn would still choose to do it this way every single time.

She knows that she's been relatively lucky. The mild symptoms that she's been having since starting the fertility treatment are nowhere near what Rachel has been experiencing. The estrogen pills are making her breasts a little tender, she usually ends up with a slight headache by dinnertime, and her own emotions are starting to feel like they're living right beneath the surface of her skin, but overall, it's been manageable. She suspects that will change once she starts taking the progesterone.

She's prepared for it though. From the moment she'd decided that she wanted to carry Rachel's child, she'd accepted all the potential effects that the IVF treatment would have on her both physically and emotionally. She's already been through one pregnancy, after all, so she knows exactly what to expect from the influx of hormones. What she hadn't prepared herself for—despite believing that she had—is the helplessness she feels in having to watch Rachel go through all of this for her sake and know that she can't really do very much to make it better for her.

To some degree, Quinn realizes that Rachel is possibly being a little more dramatic about everything than is strictly necessary. She has no doubt that Rachel is suffering through very real symptoms—her hot flashes are substantial enough to keep Quinn extra warm under the blankets at night—but she also knows that her wife has never been one to do anything quietly. The very least that Quinn can do is let Rachel be as dramatic as she needs to be until she's finally able to get all of the fertility drugs out of her system, especially when Rachel has been determined not to miss any of her performances until she absolutely, positively needs to.

That might be happening soon.

When they'd gone to the clinic on Wednesday, Doctor Klein had been in the room during the ultrasound, studying the images that Marsha had up on the monitor. She'd told Rachel that everything looked fabulous—their doctor seems very fond of that word—and that her follicles seemed to be responding wonderfully to the stimulation.

It's Friday now, and they're just coming home from another appointment in which Rachel had had to endure her very favorite test. Doctor Klein hadn't been in the room this time, so they'll need to wait for the call from the clinic to find out just where they stand, even though Hayley had told them everything was looking very good.

If Rachel's mumbled response of, "If you say so," wasn't enough to let Quinn know just how awful her wife is feeling today, then the sulky expression on her face right now and the hand pressed against her stomach certainly would be.

"I feel like my ovaries are going to explode," Rachel mutters, collapsing onto the sofa.

"I know, sweetie," Quinn attempts to sympathize as she sinks down beside her.

Rachel glares at her. "No. You _don't_ know, Quinn. _You_ don't have to feel like you're walking around with two balloons in your abdomen, and _your_ clothes aren't uncomfortably tight." She gives a despondent tug to the material of her blouse where it's clinging a little more noticeably to her curves.

Quinn frowns, glancing away guiltily, because what can she really say except, "I'm sorry."

For once, Rachel isn't exaggerating all that much. The hormones that she's taking actually are causing her ovaries to swell a little as the egg follicles develop, and she's currently a little puffy in places that she'd rather not be. Quinn thinks that Rachel's little belly is kind of adorable (and not really all that noticeable to anyone who doesn't know her body intimately) but she knows her wife doesn't agree. Rachel had worked hard to tone her body after high school, and even though she's aware that the slight swelling will disappear after the egg retrieval, it's really bothering her that she's having a more difficult time fitting into some of her clothes right now.

A quiet sniffle draws her eyes back to Rachel in time to see a tear escaping over her cheek, and Quinn's heart clenches painfully. "After all of this," Rachel whimpers quietly, gesturing to her body, "giving me shots every night and…and seeing me spread-eagle on exam tables every other day…you…you're probably never going to find me sexy ever again."

"That's not even possible," Quinn counters instantly, reaching for Rachel and ignoring her wife's weak attempt to push her away. "I'll always think you're sexy." Hell, she'd found Rachel sexy in argyle knee socks and animal sweaters and those awful bangs she used to have for a while. Quinn really is kind of a hopeless case when it comes to Rachel, and she honestly doesn't believe there's any chance that her desire for her wife is ever going away.

When Rachel scoffs, attempting to turn her face away from Quinn's unrelenting gaze, Quinn determinedly cups her jaw and guides glistening eyes back to her. "I will," she insists, not allowing Rachel to doubt her. "I do. But if you don't believe that…maybe I should be worried," she realizes with a frown. "I mean, I'll be the one spread-eagle on exam tables in a few weeks and set to gain fifty pounds of baby weight and never fit into any of my clothes ever again."

"That's different," Rachel protests with a frown of her own. "You'll be pregnant, Quinn. Of course you'll be beautiful. You'll be bringing a life into the world."

"What do you think you're doing now?" Quinn questions gently.

Rachel shrugs, rubbing her stomach again. "It isn't the same."

"Maybe not," Quinn concedes, laying a hand over Rachel's belly. "But…that's why you're doing this, Rachel." She grins a little. "Sharing the experience, remember?"

Rachel sighs, lifting a hand to brush away the moisture from her cheeks. "You know, you made that sound so much more attractive the first time you pitched it to me."

Quinn shrugs. "I still think it is," she argues, "and I still think you're wonderful for doing this with me. And sexy," she adds with a smirk, dipping her fingers beneath the edge of Rachel's shirt.

Rachel glances down skeptically, watching Quinn's hand gently caress the little strip of skin that she's exposed. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you how sexy I find your cute, little belly," she teases, hiking Rachel's shirt up even higher.

"It's not _cute_ ," Rachel protests, fighting off a tiny grin while attempting to tug her shirt back down.

Quinn determinedly stops her before slipping down off the sofa and kneeling in front of her wife—grinning a little more at Rachel's widening eyes. "Sexy, then," she corrects.

"Quinn…"

"Let me show you," Quinn pleads softly, stroking the pads of her fingers over Rachel's warm skin before leaning forward to press a kiss to her belly. She takes her time brushing her lips over the soft curve, poking her tongue out to trace a circle around Rachel's navel. A shuddering breath vibrates beneath her lips, and she smiles, confident that she'll be able to make Rachel feel sexy again—at least until a hand sinks into her hair and carefully urges her head back to meet uncertain brown eyes.

"Can we…um…maybe let me take a shower before you show me?" Rachel asks timidly, cheeks tinting red. "The ultrasound..." she trails off in embarrassment.

Quinn bites back a smile. "I could always show you _in_ the shower," she offers helpfully. It's been too long since they've made love in the shower, and there's nothing that would make her happier than sliding wet, soapy fingers over every one of Rachel's very sexy curves.

Rachel licks her lips as she takes a moment to consider her answer. "I…think that could work for me."

Smiling, Quinn stands in front of her wife and offers her hand. Rachel takes it with glittering eyes, letting Quinn help her up from the sofa and willingly following her toward the bathroom.

Quinn takes infinite care in stripping away Rachel's clothes, pausing to cherish every inch of skin revealed and being extra gentle around the tender spots where Rachel has been taking the injections. She kisses away the faint lines on Rachel's torso where her bra had pinched just a little too tightly, and her fingertips trace over the familiar words tattooed on Rachel's ribs—the vow that she'd sung to Quinn on their wedding day and later had etched onto her skin as a permanent reminder of how long Rachel would love her.

_As long as stars are above you._

Quinn knows that she's destined to love Rachel even longer—until all the stars have burned out and this world and the next have faded into the ether.

She proves it with her hands and mouth and eyes and words, showing Rachel in intimate detail exactly how much she desires her. She hopes that Rachel will do the same for her when she's pregnant and huge and feeling vulnerable and unattractive. Rachel swears that she will, gently stroking Quinn's face and sweetly thanking her for being so patient with her many moments of recurrent anxiety and self-doubt.

It's easy for Quinn to be patient when Rachel is being so incredibly generous with her body and her heart—easier still when Quinn lets herself acknowledge that her own hormones will probably turn her into a raging bitch once she's actually pregnant.

Afterward, they lie in bed, enjoying the simple intimacy of holding one another. Quinn's hands idly caress Rachel's skin wherever they touch, and Rachel snuggles into her, seemingly more relaxed that she has been in days—at least until her cell phone rings. Quinn is the one to reach for it, seeing the number as she picks it up. "It's the clinic," she murmurs, glancing at Rachel.

"Go ahead," Rachel tells her with a tense nod.

Quinn swipes the screen to answer the call, putting it on speaker, and Rachel answers with a polite, "Hello."

" _Hi, Rachel. This is Hayley from Chelsea Fertility_." Rachel rolls her eyes at the woman's need to introduce herself that way every time. " _I'm calling with your results_."

"I'm ready," Rachel responds, twining her fingers with Quinn's.

" _Everything still looks really good_ ," Hayley begins in order to ease any concerns they might have. " _Your hormone levels are still in the appropriate range, though a little on the higher side, so you can decrease your dose of the gonadotropin tonight and tomorrow to 30 units. Doctor Klein wants you to come in again tomorrow morning at eight to recheck everything._ "

Quinn can feel Rachel stiffen in her arms. "Tomorrow?" she repeats with a frown. "Is that normal?"

Hayley chuckles a little on the other end of the phone, and Quinn can see her wife's brows furrow in irritation. Quinn isn't exactly amused by the brief laughter either. " _It's perfectly normal_ ," Hayley assures her. " _You seem to be a fairly high responder, so Doctor Klein thinks it's best to check your levels and follicles daily from now on. We need to make sure we time your trigger shot perfectly_."

"So daily checkups," Rachel repeats glumly, and Quinn gives her a one-armed hug in silent support.

" _Yes. But probably not very many_ ," Hayley promises. " _Doctor Klein would also like to schedule Quinn for an ultrasound tomorrow as well to check her uterine lining. If she can come in with you, we can just do you both back to back._ "

"I'm here," Quinn speaks up. "I'll be in with Rachel." As if there was even any question that she wouldn't be. She hasn't missed an appointment yet.

" _Great. We'll see you both tomorrow morning then._ "

"You will," Quinn confirms. "Thank you, Hayley," she adds before disconnecting the call.

Quinn sets the phone aside before looking back to Rachel with a smile, but Rachel's lips are turned down in a pout. "Oh, joy. More ultrasounds," she grumbles.

"For both of us this time," Quinn reminds her, "if that makes you feel any better."

"It might," Rachel admits begrudgingly. "Just a little bit. Sharing the experience and all," she adds impishly.

Quinn laughs at that, cuddling closer to her wife. "I'm so glad I get to share it with you." And she means it. She doesn't know that she'd be quite so eager to go through all of this with anyone else, but Rachel has always made her want to do things she'd never dreamed she could do, like reaching for the stars.

Rachel sighs contentedly as she relaxes into Quinn once again. They only have another hour or so before they'll need to drag themselves out of bed so that Quinn can throw together something for their dinner and Rachel can take her evening shot before heading off to the theatre, but until then, they can stay right here and enjoy a quiet moment together.

It occurs to Quinn that quiet moments like this will be few and far between once they're finally able to bring a child into their lives, but that doesn't dampen her excitement in the least. She can't wait to share all the crazy, loud, wonderful moments of motherhood with Rachel and their child. She feels like they're getting closer to it every day.

It turns out to be much more than a feeling.

On Saturday, Quinn's results show that she's had an excellent response to the estrogen and that her uterine lining is already nice and thick. Rachel's follicles aren't quite there yet, but Doctor Klein thinks it might only be another day or two. Rachel is a little disappointed that she has to keep taking the gonadotropins and that her body isn't quite cooperating enough for her egg retrieval to fall on Monday, but she perks up a little at hearing that she really is so close to the finish line.

Close enough, in fact, that Doctor Klein is there in person during her Sunday morning ultrasound, scrutinizing the monitor. Rachel grips Quinn's hand tightly when their doctor turns to them with a bright smile and tells them, "I'll want to check the results of your blood test to verify your hormone levels, but I think we'll need to get you scheduled for your retrieval on Tuesday. If you're able to hang out here for about twenty minutes or so, I can have a definitive decision for you."

Quinn glances down at Rachel in question, knowing that she has to leave for the theatre by eleven at the latest. It's only just after nine now, but Rachel will want to hop in the shower before leaving for her show. She watches Rachel's throat muscles work as she swallows nervously, but then she's nodding and telling Doctor Klein, "We can wait for a little while."

"Wonderful. I'll put a rush on those results," she promises. "You can go ahead and get dressed and then have a seat in the waiting room."

So that's exactly what they do—Rachel's knee bouncing up and down the entire sixteen and half minutes it takes for Hayley to appear behind the receptionist's counter and beckon them over.

"Doctor Klein has a transfer to perform now, but she made a point of checking your hormone levels personally, and it looks like you're ready to go," she confirms, grinning. "We need to get you in here on Tuesday for an eleven o'clock procedure, which means you're going to need to take your hCG injection tonight at exactly eleven. Is that going to be a problem?" she asks, conscious of Rachel's schedule.

Quinn pulls her lower lip between her teeth, gazing uncertainly at her wife. Her show tonight ends around nine-forty-five, but she usually doesn't get home until after eleven, and she knows that Rachel won't want to miss tonight's performance when she'll definitely be missing the one on Tuesday.

"If I skip the stage door and have Bernie get me a taxi, it will be fine," Rachel reasons, echoing Quinn's thoughts. Giving Hayley a resolute nod, she assures her that, "It's not a problem."

Hayley proceeds to review the instructions for the hCG injection one more time and reminds them both that today is the last day for both of them to take the Lupron. Rachel smiles in relief at that news, having already taken her last dose before coming this morning. Quinn knows how much she's looking forward to the end of her headaches and hot flashes. Rachel also gets a paper telling her what to do to prepare for the light anesthesia that she'll be getting on Tuesday—no food or drink after midnight on Monday—and a reminder that she'll need someone to be here with her.

"Although I imagine you already have that covered," Hayley says, smiling at Quinn. It goes without saying that Quinn would never be anywhere else.

"Quinn, you should start your progesterone injections tomorrow," Hayley continues, "and take them daily until further notice. Assuming that everything goes well with Rachel and we have viable embryos, your transfer procedure will be next Sunday."

Butterflies erupt in Quinn's stomach at the thought of it, and she reflexively reaches for Rachel's hand, feeling her wife's fingers immediately twine with hers and squeeze. Another glance at Rachel's face assures her that panic isn't the predominant emotion that Rachel is experiencing—that beautiful look of dazed awe is back on her face again—which means that Quinn is free to bask in her own excitement with the knowledge that Rachel is mostly right here with her.

When they finally step out of the clinic, there's a very light snow falling slowly from the hazy morning sky, and Quinn turns her face up to greet the soft flakes with a wide smile. "What a beautiful day!" she exclaims happily, throwing out her arms to greet the chilly morning before turning to Rachel, who's watching her in amusement.

"I suspect you're not referring to the weather," Rachel comments, tugging her knit hat a little further down on her forehead. It doesn't stop the fluffy, white flakes from gathering in her dark hair. She's absolutely beautiful.

Quinn laughs out loud, unconcerned with the people passing by as she reaches for her wife. "We're making a baby," she exclaims joyfully.

Rachel giggles as she's swept into Quinn's arms, and her palms come up to rest on Quinn's shoulders. "I suppose we are," she agrees with a smile that might be trembling just a little around the edges. "I'm…still a little nervous," she confesses softly as she gazes into Quinn's eyes.

"But happy?" Quinn asks, needing to hear her wife say it.

"Yeah," Rachel breathes out after a moment, "I am," she confirms with sparkling eyes.

Quinn is happy too—so very happy—and she can't resist pulling Rachel even closer so that she can kiss her right there in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling warm all over despite the chill in the air.

They make it back to their apartment with just enough time for Rachel to get her shower and call a taxi to take her to the theatre. She doesn't need to rush home for her five-thirty injection today since she'll be taking her trigger shot at eleven, so she decides to stay at the theatre and greet her fans after the matinee and then maybe get in some holiday shopping before her evening show.

Quinn is too wound up to spend the afternoon cooped up in the apartment writing, so she sets out for a walk and ends up on the 6 train to Central Park. Pulling the collar on her coat a little higher to shield the wind, she makes her way into the park and walks until she's standing in front of the _Alice in Wonderland_ statue. There are a couple of kids crawling over Alice and the Mad Hatter, bundled up in coats and hats while their parents watch over them and make certain they don't slip. With a fond smile on her lips, Quinn settles onto one of the empty benches to watch them, thinking back on all of the times that she and Rachel have ended up here—the first kiss that they shared and all the kisses after that. Someday, they'll bring their children here and let them play the way those kids are playing right now. She can't wait for that day, and she presses a palm to her stomach, silently praying that everything goes their way and that they'll have their baby next year at this time.

She still feels the occasional pang of guilt over Beth—that she was never excited to be pregnant with her—but she can't change the past. Beth has asked her once or twice if she and Rachel are going to have kids someday with the innocent curiosity of a child who simply wants to know if she'll have the chance to hold a baby in the near future. It helps, knowing that Beth doesn't begrudge her the chance to finally have what she'd been forced to give up at sixteen.

Quinn eventually makes her way back to the apartment, indulging herself with a greasy, carry-out burger for dinner before she'll have to really be more conscious of what she's eating. Rachel comes home with plenty of time to spare before eleven o'clock, and she proceeds to pace around their small kitchen while Quinn gets the hCG injection ready.

"I let Bernie know that I won't be able to perform Tuesday night," Rachel tells Quinn distractedly, playing with her wedding rings. "He isn't thrilled, of course, but he knows I'm having a…medical procedure. I shudder to think what he'll have to say about next Sunday."

Quinn frowns a little. "You should be okay to perform Sunday night," she reasons. From what she understands, she won't need to be knocked out for her procedure the way Rachel will be. If she gets any drugs at all, it would probably just be something like a valium to relax her, and that would wear off in couple of hours.

"Are you serious?" Rachel asks incredulously, growing still. "You'll be having our…our baby put inside of you, Quinn! You're going to need to rest and take it very easy after that. I can't just…leave!"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I think I can manage to lie down and rest for the few hours you'll be gone." She gives the syringe a flick with her fingernail to pop the air bubbles before turning to her wife. "I don't want you miss a show if you don't absolutely need to."

Rachel crosses her arms petulantly. "I will absolutely _need_ to, Quinn."

It makes Quinn feel warm inside that Rachel wants to be here with her to take care of her, but she really doesn't think it will be necessary, and she also really doesn't want Rachel to get in trouble with her production manager, producer, or, God forbid, cultivate that Diva reputation of hers any more than she already has in the past. "We'll see," Quinn hedges, figuring it's probably best to leave the argument until they see exactly what happens next Sunday. "Now, lift your shirt," she orders. "It's just about eleven."

Rachel's arms slide out of their crossed position, and she takes a deep breath before hooking her fingers under the edge of her shirt and lifting. "I really hope this does what it's supposed to do," she practically whispers.

"It will," Quinn assures her, licking her lips as she concentrates on doing this quickly and carefully—wiping a small area of skin with alcohol before pushing in the needle. Rachel releases a familiar hiss of breath at the contact, and Quinn offers her a comforting smile. "There. You're officially all done with the injections."

"Thank heavens," Rachel murmurs, closing her eyes in silent relief.

After placing the syringe aside, Quinn gathers Rachel into her arms, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. Rachel practically melts into her. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go to bed."

"Please," Rachel murmurs, snuggling into her and making no effort to move away—or move at all.

"I can carry you if you want," Quinn offers with smile. It's not all that far.

That has Rachel stepping back with a frown. "Don't you dare! With all the water weight I'm retaining, I'll probably break your back."

Quinn laughs, shaking her head as she reaches for Rachel's hand. "You still weigh next to nothing," she promises as she leads her wife into their bedroom for the night. All the excitement from the morning and the fresh air from her afternoon walk work in tandem to lull Quinn into a fast, deep sleep, warm and content in Rachel's arms.

They spend all day Monday in the apartment being lazy. Rachel really needs it—the hormones are still doing a number on her body and her emotions. She's tired and hot and still feeling bloated and battling a headache, and of course, she's also worrying about the procedure on Tuesday.

To be honest, Quinn is a little worried about it too. The procedure itself is supposedly simple enough, but there's no guarantee that they'll end up with viable mature eggs, and even if they do, they'll still need to be successfully fertilized. Quinn is praying that everything goes perfectly because she really doesn't want Rachel to have to go through this process again.

In her quieter moments, Quinn tries to imagine what she'll do if things don't work out this cycle. If she's being honest with herself, she has to admit that her desire to use Rachel's egg had been rooted in at least one very selfish reason. Yes—obviously she loves Rachel with all of her heart and wants to give her a child who shares her genes and her personality and her beauty, inside and out. (And maybe even some of that is a little bit selfish in her need to shower their child with the love and affection and _acceptance_ that she'd denied Rachel for so long in their youth.) But Quinn had also been just a little scared that Rachel might feel like something was missing if she wasn't genetically tied to their baby—like she would feel somehow less of a mother than Quinn—and it would end up affecting the relationship that Rachel would have with their child. That's just not something that Quinn would ever want to risk. She really does need her wife to feel every bit as connected to their baby as Quinn will by carrying him or her beneath her heart for nine months.

Whether she needs that enough to ask Rachel to put herself through the tests and injections all over again is something that Quinn hopes she won't have to find out.

By the time Tuesday morning rolls around, Rachel is grumpy and hungry and exhausted from a restless night of sleep on Monday. And she's _scared_. Quinn can see it in her eyes and feel it in the unrelenting grip on her hand all the way to the clinic. She tries her best to ease Rachel's fears, but a few of her own are sneaking in to mess with her head. Discovering that she won't be able to be in the room with Rachel while the procedure is done certainly doesn't help calm either one of them.

Quinn isn't happy about being confined to the waiting room, but Rachel gives her hand a hard squeeze, visibly gathering up her courage in order to offer Quinn a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine," she promises, leaning in to give Quinn's cheek a kiss. "Try not to terrorize Sandy too much while I'm back there."

Quinn puffs out a breath, returning Rachel's smile. "I'll try." She lifts a hand to stroke Rachel's cheek. "Good luck, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

Sitting in that waiting room is one of the hardest things that Quinn has ever had to do—and she's given birth and survived a car accident and months of physical therapy! That little voice that's been silent for months is suddenly whispering about all the things that might go wrong, everything from a failed retrieval to Rachel having a reaction to the anesthesia. Quinn really wishes that voice would shut the hell up.

She attempts to distract herself with a magazine for all of five minutes before she gives up and stares at the door, willing it to open and give her some news about her wife. She only gets up three times to ask Sandy how much longer it should be and if she can check to see how it's going. Rachel should be proud of how much restraint she's managing.

Almost two hours after Rachel had been taken back, Hayley finally reappears in the waiting room with a smile, and Quinn flies out of her chair. "How is she?" she demands, feeling her stomach roll with nerves.

"She's fine," Hayley assures her. "She's starting to wake up now, and once we get her moved into the recovery room, we'll let you come back to sit with her until we release her." Relief floods Quinn's entire body at the confirmation that Rachel is okay. "Doctor Klein will let you both know the final results of the retrieval, but I can tell you that the procedure went perfectly, and it looks very promising. So just hang out here for about ten more minutes, and I'll come take you back when we're ready."

Quinn thanks her, grinning in relieved joy as she folds her hands together in front of her and tries to wait patiently to see her wife and find out just how successful the retrieval had been. Her body is coiled too tightly to sit back down, so she paces back and forth in the waiting room, ignoring Sandy's wary looks, until Hayley reappears.

When she rushes into the recovery room, Rachel is lying on the cot in her hospital gown looking groggy and adorable with her hair in disarray. She smiles widely the moment she sees Quinn, reaching out to her with an unsteady hand. "Baby…c'mere."

Quinn is at her side in an instant. "Hey. How are you feeling?" she asks with a smile, grateful to see with her own eyes that Rachel is awake and talking and looking hardly any worse for wear.

"Sleepy," Rachel murmurs. "And a little sore. Can we go home now?"

Quinn chuckles a little, reaching down to sift her fingers through Rachel's hair and brush a few errant curls away from her face. "In a bit."

Rachel sighs, letting her eyes drift shut again. "M'kay."

"You're supposed to be waking up, Rach," Quinn admonishes gently. "Not going back to sleep again."

"I'm awake," she insists quietly, giving Quinn's hand a squeeze as proof. "Did I do good?" she asks after a moment, her voice small and hopeful.

"You did great, sweetie," Quinn promises, trusting Hayley's assurance that everything went perfectly and praying that the woman was right. "Doctor Klein is going to come tell us just how great in a few minutes."

Rachel smiles slightly, taking Quinn at her word.

It's closer to five minutes when Doctor Klein walks in with a smile—smiling is a very good sign—and Quinn sits up straight, giving Rachel's hand a little tug to get her attention. Rachel's eyes snap open immediately, looking far more alert than when Quinn had first walked into the room, and she struggles to sit upright on the cot.

"No need to get up," Doctor Klein tells her with a grin. "You deserve the rest."

"I can rest when I'm home," Rachel argues, gripping Quinn's arm until Quinn helps her prop herself up. "I just want to know if I'm going to have to do this again anytime soon."

Doctor Klein chuckles. "Obviously, I can't make any hard and fast guarantees about that, but I can say that you had a fabulous response to the stimulation, Rachel." Quinn suppresses a laugh at that—both at the reappearance of their doctor's favorite word and the idea that Rachel's miserable experience with the hormones had actually been _fabulous_. "We were able to retrieve nineteen eggs, and seventeen of them are mature," Doctor Klein continues. "They're being inseminated now, so we'll still need to wait and see how many are successfully fertilized, but I'm very optimistic about our potential results."

Quinn's heart is racing as she gazes at Rachel, seeing the dazed grin on her face. "Seventeen is good, right?" Rachel asks a little uncertainly. "I mean, that seems like a good number."

"It is," Doctor Klein confirms warmly, and Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand in silent relief. "There's a very good chance that we'll get several through to the blastocyst stage. You can expect a call this evening to let you know how many were fertilized, and then we'll continue to monitor the embryos in the lab and follow up with you on Friday to let you know how they're developing."

Quinn doesn't know if she can wait that long—three days suddenly feels like forever.

"We'll go ahead and schedule your transfer for Sunday, Quinn," Doctor Klein informs her, "but we'll confirm it when we call on Friday. If everything's a go, you'll need to come in Saturday morning for a pretransfer ultrasound. You've started the progesterone, correct?"

Quinn nods. "Yes. Yesterday morning."

"Good. Keep taking that and the estrogen," Doctor Klein instructs before glancing back to Rachel. "You can go ahead and get dressed, Rachel, but I want you to stay in here for another fifteen minutes at least before you check out with Sandy. If you experience any pain above mild cramping or you notice a reaction to the anesthesia, let someone know immediately."

"We will," Quinn promises. "Thank you, Doctor Klein."

"I'll be in touch soon," she promises before she slips out of the room.

Grinning, Quinn turns to Rachel and cups her cheek, leaning in to give her kiss. "You did so good," she repeats softly. "I love you so much."

"You'd better," Rachel chides gently. "My ovaries just coughed up nineteen eggs for you."

"You're such an overachiever," Quinn teases, so very relieved to know that Rachel shouldn't need to do this again—at least for a good long while.

Rachel flashes a smile. "You know it, baby."

When Rachel kisses her, Quinn swears that she can actually taste her wife's relief.

Rachel takes her time getting dressed, and even though she's obviously still a little groggy, she insists that she can walk home. Quinn doesn't believe her at all and calls a taxi to pick to them up. When they get home, Quinn puts Rachel right to bed and proceeds to pamper her for the rest of the day.

At five-thirty, they receive a phone call from Doctor Klein telling them that fifteen of Rachel's seventeen eggs were successfully fertilized and are now being monitored in the lab. It's the very best news, and they celebrate with tender kisses and an intimate dinner—Rachel isn't quite up for anything more just yet.

The rest of the week is hell for Quinn, between waiting to find out how many of their embryos are viable and feeling the progesterone start to really kick in—giving her mild flashbacks to the very early days of her pregnancy with Beth. Her breasts are already incredibly tender, she's beginning to wake up a little nauseous in the mornings, and she's had one minor dizzy spell already. Meanwhile, Rachel is slowly starting to feel better physically as the hormones work their way out of her system, but she's still an emotional mess for all the same reasons that Quinn is.

"We should have heard something by now," she frets on Friday afternoon. It's nearly five, and she was hoping to leave for the theatre by six, but they still haven't gotten a phone call from the clinic. "Maybe we should just call them."

"Maybe you're right," Quinn agrees, done with her attempts to be patient. She's just as anxious as Rachel is to know what's going on in the lab, so she picks up the phone and calls. Sandy asks if she can put her on hold, and even though Quinn wants to scream _hell_ _no_ at the top of her lungs, she grits her teeth and agrees. She desperately tries to brace herself for potential bad news.

When the call reconnects, it's not Sandy but Hayley on the phone, sounding breathless and apologetic. " _I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. Doctor Klein is with a patient, and we're a little behind with our phone calls today_."

Quinn resists the urge to be a bitch about it—her hormones and her nerves both really, really want her to be—because she can hear how frazzled Hayley sounds, and the clinic has always been really good about these calls in the past. So she sighs and says, "I understand. But we really would like to know how our embryos are doing."

" _Of course_ ," Hayley agrees quickly. Rachel is hovering close to Quinn's side, trying to hear what's being said, so Quinn quickly switches her phone to speaker just as Hayley continues to talk. " _Right now, you have twelve viable embryos in the cleavage state. Six are grade one, which means the cells are dividing equally with no fragmentation. You also have three that are grade two, and those have some minor fragmentation. The last three are grade three. Doctor Klein is confident that we'll get about half of them though to the blastocyst stage for your transfer, so plan on being here at eight o'clock on Sunday morning. Your ultrasound tomorrow is at nine. Do you have any questions?_ "

Quinn attempts to swallow around the lump in her throat, glancing at Rachel through watery eyes and feeling completely overwhelmed by the fact that they have twelve potential babies developing in a lab. Rachel seems to read her thoughts and reaches for her hand, holding onto it tightly while her own eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Grade one…those are the ones we're hoping for, right?"

" _Both grade one and two have the highest success rates. But there's also been success with the grade three embryos, so Doctor Klein is cautiously optimistic about your chances of conceiving._ "

Cautiously optimistic is more than enough to send Quinn's heart soaring.

After thanking Hayley, Quinn disconnects the call and lets the phone drop onto the table before she turns into Rachel's arms and hugs her with all her strength, feeling Rachel hold onto her just as tightly. "It's happening," she whispers, feeling a surge of renewed certainty that this is going to work.

Rachel exhales shakily, pressing her palms into Quinn's back. "We...we shouldn't celebrate just yet," she warns quietly. "We still have to get through Sunday and…and hope it sticks."

Quinn closes her eyes and buries her nose into Rachel's neck, not wanting to think about the possibility of failing at her part of this. "I know," she concedes reluctantly, but deep down, she's determined that she's going to get this right. She was so good at getting pregnant in one try when she didn't want to be—she refuses to believe she won't be just as good at it now that she wants it so very, very much.


	7. Never More Than A Single Kiss Away

**Part VII: Never More Than A Single Kiss Away**

* * *

The relief that Rachel feels at having delivered on her half of this shared experience is tempered by the anxiety that she's still feeling over what has to happen next. Quinn has to actually get pregnant.

It's so strange to think about the fact that, in a sense, they're already pregnant. Every one of those twelve embryos has the potential to grow into an actual living, breathing person—a person who will be her flesh and blood child. As much as Rachel doesn't feel ready for more than one baby right now (and barely ready for even that), there's suddenly a part of her that wants to somehow keep every single one of them. She supposes that she should have expected as much—these eggs are infinitely more precious than the ones that Jesse had cracked over her head in high school, and she'd had nightmares about the poor baby chickens for weeks. She suspects it's going to be so much worse than that to lose any of their embryos.

But they obviously can't bring all twelve into the world, and Doctor Klein has warned them that not all of them will even make it to the next stage. Rachel doesn't want to think about the possibility that none of them will, because she really, really does not want to go through the ovarian stimulation a second time. Her body is still recovering from the effects of the hormones nearly a week after taking the last dose. At least her pants aren't feeling quite as snug anymore.

Her emotions are another story entirely.

On Saturday morning, Rachel accompanies Quinn to her ultrasound appointment where they're reassured that her uterus is primed and ready to go. They also find out that they're down to nine embryos, and tears instantly spring to Rachel's eyes at the thought of the three that didn't make it. Quinn's eyes aren't exactly dry either as she gets redressed after her test, but she seems to be holding up much better than Rachel.

"I really didn't expect this to affect me so much," she admits, sniffling as she wipes away her tears. "I know it's…it's just the way this works, but…" she trails off, shaking her head.

"They're our babies," Quinn finishes with a tremor in her own voice, reaching for Rachel's hand. "It's hard to know they won't all get a chance at life."

Rachel feels her insides twist, suddenly terrified that _none_ of them will get a chance at life, and this time it has absolutely nothing to do with her reluctance to go through the treatment again. She desperately wants one of her babies to make it into the world.

Quinn seems to read the emotion on her face and quickly pulls Rachel into her arms. "We'll get to meet one of them soon, Rachel," she promises, and Rachel twists her fingers into the material of Quinn's shirt as she clings to her unwavering belief like a lifeline.

They eventually compose themselves enough to listen to Hayley's brief rundown of what they can expect tomorrow, but Rachel's mind insists on turning over worst-case scenarios and reminding her of how easily a failure at this stage might break them. She already feels on the verge of being broken over a few lost embryos.

By the time they leave the clinic, Quinn appears to be happy and calm. Rachel wishes she could feel the same, but all of her emotions are violently churning within her, making her feel a little sick.

Quinn tunes into Rachel's frazzled state about a block away from their apartment, and the serene smile that she's been wearing for most of the morning slips all the way into a frown by the time they step inside their living room. "Okay, talk to me," she demands, crossing her arms. "Tell me what's going on inside your head, Rachel, because you haven't looked this skittish since August."

Sighing, Rachel pushes her hands through her hair before sinking down onto the sofa. "I'm just worried, Quinn," she admits, glancing up at her wife. "I know you're hoping that everything will go perfectly tomorrow and you'll be pregnant soon," she continues, twisting her hands together nervously, "and I want that too. I really do," she vows fervently, envisioning their baby so clearly in her mind, "but I just keep thinking about what it will do to us if…if it doesn't happen."

Quinn's defensive stance immediately relaxes, and she sits down next to Rachel with a pensive expression. "I know we might end up disappointed at the end of this," she quietly confesses, reaching for Rachel's hand, "but I also know that we'll get through it together, Rach. Just like we always do," she promises with a faint smile, squeezing Rachel's hand. "And eventually, we _will_ have our family."

Rachel nods, feeling a little bit of the tension in her stomach ease with Quinn's assurances. Licking her lips, she covers their joined hands with her free one as she gazes into hazel eyes. "I…I think we need to decide how many times we're going to try the transfer." They'd agreed to set a limit before they'd ever started this, but they've yet to actually discuss a number. Rachel knows that they could conceivably keep trying indefinitely as long as they're able to afford it, but she suspects that the emotional price for that would be so much more devastating than the financial one.

"I want to try as many times as we can," Quinn insists, holding Rachel's gaze.

It's exactly what Rachel is expecting, of course, but, "We already lost three embryos, Quinn." It still upsets Rachel to think of how quickly that had happened. "And we don't know how many we'll actually have tomorrow." If they even have any—her hold on Quinn tightens reflexively. "But I'm…not opposed to trying with what we have left."

Quinn catches her lower lips between her teeth while she considers this before finally soothing the worried flesh with her tongue. "So, if we end up with all nine, you're okay with trying that many times?"

Rachel takes a breath, nodding again. "Yes. For now." Because she already hates the idea of not giving their embryos a chance at life if it's in their power to do so. “But I reserve the right to reopen the discussion if repeated attempts prove to be too emotionally taxing for either one of us.”

“Okay,” Quinn agrees after a beat—her mouth curving back into a soft smile. “But I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that. I have a really good feeling about tomorrow, Rach."

Rachel wishes she could have that same good feeling instead of all the nervous butterflies currently terrorizing her insides, but she's going to do her best to suffocate them—both for Quinn's sake and the sake of her own sanity.

"Perhaps my latent psychic abilities have transferred over to you," Rachel attempts to joke, offering Quinn a smile of her own.

Quinn chuckles, rolling her eyes. "Or I just trust Doctor Klein and believe that the IVF has been working exactly the way it's supposed to."

"Well, that's entirely too logical," Rachel grumbles, making Quinn laugh again. But really, she knows Quinn does have a point. They haven't encountered any roadblocks so far, so Rachel is probably just borrowing trouble.

"We'll be fine, Rachel," Quinn promises, patting her hand before relaxing back into the sofa and urging Rachel to follow.

Rachel sighs, leaning into Quinn. "And of course, I'll be right here with you tomorrow to make sure that _you're_ fine."

"Rachel, sweetie, I really don't want you to feel like you need to miss both your shows tomorrow," Quinn tells her again, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Hayley said I'll be free to move around after the procedure as long as I avoid strenuous activity. I'll be fine tomorrow night…and you have fans you shouldn't disappoint."

Everything inside of Rachel rebels at the very notion of being anywhere but attached to Quinn's side tomorrow, and it's really not fair of Quinn to mention her fans. She's very well aware of how much Rachel hates to disappoint them. But she'd already told Bernie that she'd likely need to miss her Sunday performances—only _likely_ because Rachel had reluctantly conceded the possibility that something might still go wrong to waylay the transfer—and her understudy knows to be ready to perform. Bernie is pissed at her, of course, but Rachel has her priorities straight for once.

"You're far more important than my show or my fans, Quinn." She needs to be here to make sure that Quinn stays still and rested and doesn't take any chances with their potential baby.

A tender smile tugs at Quinn's lips, but Rachel can see that her wife isn't going to give in so easily. "I know that, Rach. You've proven it to me so many times already," she murmurs lovingly. "So you don't need to miss a show just to watch me lie around on the sofa and watch old movies."

"Actually, I'd be perfectly happy to watch you do exactly that," Rachel argues with a slight smile. Quinn sighs in exasperation, shaking her head, but the smile on her face belies any real frustration. Rachel suspects that this argument could go in circles all day, and she actually does need to get to the theatre today since she absolutely will be missing at least one of her shows tomorrow. "So we'll resume this discussion tomorrow," she promises, not willing to concede to anything else until she sees how Quinn comes through the procedure and hears what their doctor has to say. Not that she doesn't trust Hayley, but—well, she'll simply feel better hearing directly from Doctor Klein that Quinn doesn't need to be on bed rest and closely monitored after the transfer.

Rachel does manage to make it through her Saturday performances, though those butterflies in her stomach don't really settle down very much, and she informs her production manager that the Sunday matinee is still non-negotiable but that she may, in fact, be able to make it for the evening's performance. He is only slightly less pissed at her than he was before.

The serene smile is back on Quinn's face when Rachel gets home from the theatre, and seeing it helps to ease so many of Rachel's fears—not enough, of course, to keep her from experiencing another sleepless night, but then Quinn is mostly awake right along with her thanks to the anticipation she's feeling.

Rachel can't bring herself to eat breakfast in the morning, still far too nervous to handle having anything in her stomach, so she merely paces around the kitchen while she watches Quinn down the thirty-two ounces of water that she's been instructed to drink prior to the transfer.

Unlike with the egg retrieval, Rachel is permitted to be in the room with Quinn for the procedure, so she stands nervously at her wife's side, waiting for the mild dose of diazepam that Hayley had administered to kick in. Quinn squirms a little on the table, uncomfortable from her full bladder and, Rachel suspects, from her own case of nerves that finally seem to have made an appearance.

Quinn glances up at Rachel with a tremulous smile as she grips her hand. "Are you ready for this?" she asks softly.

"I think the better question is are _you_ ready?" Rachel counters, offering her wife a supportive smile.

"So ready," Quinn assures her just as Doctor Klein breezes into the room.

"Well, I'm ready too," she promises with a smile and a wink. "So let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"Should I…move somewhere specific?" Rachel asks, not wanting to get in the way of anything.

"No. You're fine right there," Doctor Klein promises. "Marsha is going to be on Quinn's other side with the abdominal ultrasound," she explains, gesturing to the equipment and the monitor. Rachel frowns slightly, wishing that type of ultrasound had been an option for her even one of the countless times that she'd had to have one. "And I'll be down here," their doctor adds with a grin, pointing at her own position at the end of the table in front of Quinn's feet.

"Six of your embryos are in the blastocyst stage," she informs them, "and they all look fabulous." Quinn squeezes Rachel's hand, grinning widely at the news. Rachel's heart is in her throat, realizing that they have six chances to become moms—although her joy is all mixed up with another moment of grief at realizing that three more didn't make it this far. "Hayley will be in shortly with the two I feel have the highest quality."

"But we're only having the one transferred?" Rachel is quick to verify. One at a time is still her preference.

"Yes. Having the second on hand is simply a precautionary measure for the transfer procedure, but I can assure you that I've never actually needed it," she informs them with just a hint of (understandable) conceit in her voice. "Once we finish the procedure, it will be returned to the lab where we'll cryopreserve it along with the other four."

"I could have six of your babies, Rach," Quinn murmurs a little fuzzily, tugging on her hand. "Not all at once though," she clarifies with a furrowed brow. "That would hurt."

Rachel looks at her in surprise while Doctor Klein chuckles. "Looks like the diazepam is working."

Quinn's lips quirk into a dopey smile. "Yeah," she agrees with an exaggerated nod. "You can knock me up now."

Rachel chokes back a very unladylike snort, shaking her head at her mildly drugged-up wife's loose lips. "We'll do our best," she promises, glancing back to Doctor Klein. "How long before this wears off?" she asks, a little worried about the effects and if they'll make it more difficult for Rachel to get Quinn home safely.

"It will be completely out of her system in about four hours," Doctor Klein promises, "but she'll probably only feel the strongest effects for an hour or two."

"So you can go to your show tonight," Quinn insists, somehow managing to be completely coherent when it comes to that subject.

"We'll see," Rachel dismisses, giving Quinn's hand a squeeze.

A few moments later, Hayley enters the room with a tray, and Rachel feels her stomach flip at the knowledge of what's on it. This is it. This is really going to happen. Regardless of whether this procedure is successful or not, Quinn is going to have Rachel's embryo put inside of her body right here and now. She might actually leave this room pregnant with Rachel's baby.

"This is it," Quinn murmurs, voicing Rachel's thoughts.

A trembling smile pulls at Rachel's lips as she watches Marsha spread gel on Quinn's exposed abdomen for the ultrasound while Doctor Klein prepares for the procedure. Their doctor takes the time to explain every step as she proceeds, and Quinn's hand stays firmly attached to Rachel's, even as she follows Doctor Klein's instructions to lie back and relax.

Rachel's heart is threatening to pound out of her chest—it feels like her first kiss with Quinn and her wedding day and her Tony win all rolled into one—and she can't decide if she should be watching Quinn's face or the monitor where the ultrasound image shows them exactly what their doctor is doing as she guides the embryo inside of Quinn. Quinn's eyes are resolutely on the monitor, as if she's willing their baby to settle into her womb and make himself at home there for the next nine months.

Watching it happen is indescribably _amazing,_ and Rachel stands there staring in awe as Doctor Klein finishes her task with a skilled hand and gently withdraws the catheter.

"Quinn, I need you to lie still for the next fifteen minutes," Doctor Klein informs her with a warm smile. "Hayley will let you know when you can move around again."

"Okay," Quinn agrees quickly, nearly holding her breath in her effort to move as little as possible.

"That's it?" Rachel questions breathlessly, feeling like she's just run ten miles even though she hasn't moved from this spot.

"That's it," Doctor Klein confirms with a nod. "The transfer went perfectly. Now we just wait to see if the embryo implants."

Hayley collects the tray with the second embryo and carries it out of the room while Marsha gently wipes the gel off Quinn's abdomen. Rachel is only vaguely aware of their actions as she looks back to Quinn, seeing the hopeful wonder on her face.

"Should…should we be doing anything specific to increase our chances?" Rachel asks, needing to make sure they're doing everything in their power to get a positive result.

"Quinn will need to take it easy for the rest of the day," Doctor Klein reiterates before looking directly at Quinn, "and avoid any strenuous activities for the next week. If you feel any pain or cramping, call me right away." Quinn gives a very slight nod to indicate that she understands. "Some implantation bleeding is fairly common," Doctor Klein continues, "so don't panic if you notice a little spotting, but let us know if you experience anything heavier than that. Otherwise, keep taking your progesterone and estrogen daily, and we'll have you have come back on December 20th for your beta test."

"That's the pregnancy test?" Rachel checks, briefly glancing at their doctor.

Doctor Klein nods. "If it's positive, we'll give a second test in three or four days to verify that Quinn's hCG levels are rising as they should be, and if they are, we'll be able to confirm that the pregnancy is viable at that time. I'll advise you not to try any over the counter tests before then. The progesterone injections can easily lead to a false positive."

Rachel nods. "So wait for the blood test."

"Wait for the blood test," Doctor Klein repeats with a smile. "Rachel, if you want, you can roll this stool over while you wait," she says, pointing to the stool that she'd been sitting on for the procedure. "Quinn, you have about ten more minutes before we can release you."

"Thank you, Doctor Klein," Quinn practically whispers, as if she's afraid that even the vibrations of her voice might be too much movement.

"I'll talk to you soon," Doctor Klein assures them before she slips out of the room, leaving Rachel and Quinn alone for a short time.

Rachel's attention is instantly back on her wife, and she reaches out a trembling hand to gently stroke her fingers through soft, blonde hair. "It won't be much longer now," she promises Quinn, realizing that it's true both for today and for their entire journey thus far. It won't be much longer until they find out if they'll be celebrating the beginning of their family or comforting one another over a failed attempt.

Quinn closes her eyes, a trembling smile on her lips as she squeezes Rachel's hand. "I'm afraid to move," she admits quietly. "I want our baby so much."

"Me too," Rachel vows just as quietly. Her eyes drift down to Quinn's stomach, knowing that, even now, that little bundle of cells might be in there attaching itself. She wants to press her palm against the skin there—somehow send some extra warmth and protection to their potential child—but she doesn't want to risk jostling Quinn.

Quinn is smiling more certainly when Rachel's gaze finds its way back to her face to see hazel eyes open and watching her with adoration. "I love you, Rach."

"I love you too," she echoes, caressing Quinn's cheek. "I always will," she promises, feeling emotional tears sting at her eyes, "no matter what happens after today."

"We'll be moms," Quinn insists again, squeezing Rachel's hand again. Rachel swallows heavily, feeling a little dizzy at the possibility. "You should sit down," Quinn suggests. "You look a little weak in the knees."

Rachel chuckles. "And you still sound a little high."

Quinn forcibly bites into her lip, squeezing her eyes shut, and Rachel's heart lurches at her wife's mild grimace. She's ready to race out in search of Doctor Klein when Quinn exhales carefully and warns her, "Don't you dare make me laugh. I'm not supposed to move."

Rachel sags in relief at knowing Quinn isn't in any kind of pain, and she resists the urge to point out that Quinn probably only finds her funny right now because she is, in fact, still a little high. "Sorry, baby," she says instead, willing the clock to move a little faster and knowing that, even after the full fifteen minutes have passed, she's going to be terrified of every little movement Quinn makes until she takes that pregnancy test.

She's most definitely not going to her show tonight.

Hayley eventually comes back in and informs them that enough time has passed. "You can go ahead and get dressed, Quinn. Feel free to use the restroom if you need to."

Quinn sighs in relief. "I really, really do," she admits with a slight blush, shifting so very gingerly on the table as she tries to carefully sit up. Rachel is quick to help her even though she's a nervous wreck the moment Quinn starts to move.

She can't help noticing the care Quinn takes with every movement as she gets dressed, and Rachel knows that she's still feeling a little uncertain about how much activity is too much. Rachel calls for a taxi while Quinn uses the restroom at the clinic, determined not to let her wife walk one step farther than she absolutely needs to—and every one of those is taken in the protective circle of Rachel's arms.

The moment they get home, Rachel insists that Quinn go directly to bed. "You're to take it very easy for the rest of the day," she orders, pointing to the bedroom.

Quinn rolls her eyes, reminding Rachel, "I don't need to be on bed rest."

"But you do need to be resting. You can get up to go to the bathroom," Rachel allows magnanimously. She'd actually prefer if Quinn would, in fact, stay in bed and not move at all for the rest of the day, but she understands that things like eating and heeding nature's call can't be avoided. "I'll take care of making us lunch. Just tell me what you'd like, and it's yours."

"Sandwiches are fine," Quinn tells her, ignoring Rachel's order to go to bed in favor of kicking off her shoes and curling up on the sofa instead.

Rachel frowns at her, crossing her arms. "A _sandwich_ is hardly testing the limits of my culinary expertise."

Quinn grins at her. "I'd rather not test them today, sweetie. I'm kind of hungry."

Rachel ignores the familiar teasing, confident that she's much better in the kitchen now than she used to be. She hasn't burned anything in months. "And very stubborn. _That_ is not our bed," she points out, gesturing to the sofa.

"But it is me resting," Quinn argues with a faint smile, resting a protective hand over her stomach.

The simple gesture nearly knocks Rachel off her feet, and she inhales deeply, sinking down onto the edge of the cushion next to Quinn as she stares at her hand in awe. Quinn watches her with a confused smile until Rachel reaches out to touch the spot just beneath Quinn's hand with trembling fingers. "You...you could be…" she trails off, barely able to get words out past the lump in her throat. It's so incredibly overwhelming to think about what might be happening inside of Quinn right now.

Quinn's expression goes soft, and she guides Rachel's hand more fully to her belly, holding it there. "I know," she murmurs, smiling at Rachel through joyful tears. "It will be the very best Christmas present."

Rachel swallows thickly, blinking back her own tears. "Quinn...if...if it turns out that...that we're not…"

"Don't," Quinn stops her instantly. "I told you...I have a good feeling about this, Rachel. Be hopeful with me," she pleads softly.

"I don't think I have a choice," Rachel admits with a watery smile, pressing her palm more firmly against Quinn's belly. The hope in her heart refuses to be silenced by the fear and worry that still whisper in her ears.

It goes without saying that Rachel doesn't make it to her show that night. Quinn's half-hearted protest dies the moment Rachel curls up next to her and wraps her arms around Quinn's waist, touching her stomach so very reverently in the hope that she can somehow will the tiny life inside to take root.

They'll have to wait nine days to find out if it does.

Rachel tries to go about her business as usual for those nine days—she really, really does. She has _Confessions_ to focus on (and despite the handful of missed shows, Zachary and their producer still have the utmost faith in Rachel's ability to deliver exceptional performances) in addition to taking on a few more chores around the apartment (like vacuuming and cleaning Oliver's litter box) to make sure that Quinn doesn't overexert herself or take any unnecessary risks.

But her eyes keep drifting to Quinn's midriff and her heart keeps lodging in her throat and her mind keeps insisting on preparing for the worst while everything else in her is praying for the best, and the uncertainty of it all is driving her crazy!

Every morning when they wake up, Rachel asks Quinn how she's feeling, and every morning, Quinn offers Rachel a cheeky grin and tells her, "I'm feeling _fabulous_." Quinn is still rather amused by their doctor's attachment to that word. Despite her unchanging answer, Rachel can tell that she's still dealing with the symptoms of the progesterone shots and the estrogen tablets, and frankly, it's incredibly frustrating because they're all so similar to pregnancy symptoms that Rachel doesn't know how to tell the difference. She really wishes she'd been paying more attention to Quinn when she'd been pregnant with Beth instead of letting herself get so distracted by Finn Hudson.

She's certainly paying attention now—and every day that passes without any obvious sign that Quinn _isn't_ pregnant makes Rachel that much more hopeful that she is.

Exactly one week after the transfer, Rachel wakes up to the sensation of soft lips on her neck and a cool hand on her stomach, and she opens her eyes to see Quinn grinning down at her. "Happy birthday," she murmurs, sliding the hand underneath Rachel's flannel pajama top high enough to take the material with it. Rachel is instantly awake at the sensation of fingers tracing the curve of her breast.

Sucking in a breath, Rachel twists her fingers into the fitted sheet beneath her body. "Let me guess…you're feeling fabulous," she husks, automatically arching into Quinn's talented fingers.

"I am," Quinn confirms with a smirk. "And I want to give you one of your birthday presents right now."

Rachel had honestly lost track of what day it even was with so much of her focus on Quinn and the quest to begin their family—except, of course, that today is two days before they'll be able to find out for certain if Quinn is pregnant. The pleasant buzz of her body waking up beneath Quinn's touch gets slightly muffled by the nervous butterflies in her stomach, and she has to dig down deep for the will to gently grab Quinn's wrist and still her movements. "Baby, stop," she reluctantly begs.

Quinn's brow furrows in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"No strenuous activities" she reminds Quinn mournfully. Sex kind of fits the category of strenuous activity, which is too bad because Rachel was really enjoying the scrape of Quinn's nails against her nipple and the weight of her body—oh, her _fabulous_ body!—on top of her.

"For me. Not for you," Quinn points out with grin, shifting her thigh into a particularly enjoyable position.

Rachel inhales shakily. "That…that doesn't seem fair."

Quinn laughs, shaking her head. "It's your birthday," she reiterates, resuming her sensual exploration of Rachel's breasts. "I wanna celebrate."

Rachel bites into her lip—torn between wanting to let Quinn have her way and feeling like maybe she shouldn't, because, "You really should be taking it easy."

Quinn's hand stills again, and she frowns at Rachel. "I've been taking it easy for a week. You've hardly let me do anything except write. I love that you want to take care of me, Rachel, but I'm not made of glass," she chastises lightly.

"No," Rachel agrees, gliding a gentle hand over Quinn's side, "you're infinitely more precious."

Quinn sighs. "But not nearly as fragile." She runs her tongue across her lips, smiling devilishly. "And you know it really doesn't take all that much effort for me to make you come," she purrs, ducking her head to nip at Rachel's lower lip.

Rachel shudders beneath her, on the verge of giving in. "Oh," she groans when Quinn's mouth trails across her jaw to nibble at the spot just beneath Rachel's ear that she absolutely can't resist. She really is very good at that—and so many other things. "Oh…okay," she finally surrenders, "but you'd better not enjoy it too much."

Quinn chuckles against her neck, low and rich. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy it immensely."

It turns out to be a _very_ good birthday for Rachel.

After a wonderfully enjoyable morning—one that Quinn maybe did enjoy a little too much—Rachel manages to pull herself away from her wife to make her matinee performance. When she gets home later that night, Quinn has another gift waiting for her—a thin, gold bracelet with a delicate gold and jeweled flower dangling from it. "It's supposed to be a daffodil," Quinn explains, fastening it around Rachel's wrist. "They symbolize new beginnings," she adds, lifting sparkling eyes to gaze at Rachel. "I thought it was fitting."

"It's perfect," Rachel agrees, fingering the beautiful charm. Even if they end up having to wait a little longer to actually have their family, this is still a new beginning for them—the next phase in their relationship. They're going to keep trying for their baby because it's what they _both_ want.

Monday feels like it lasts a year, and while normally, Rachel would be basking in the opportunity to spend an entire day being lazy with her wife, today she can't help wanting it to be _tomorrow_ already.

But it's the first night of Hanukkah, so Rachel and Quinn spend the day enjoying a movie marathon of all their favorite films in an attempt to keep their minds off their appointment at the clinic before they light the Menorah that evening. Rachel has something small planned for each of the eight nights to keep with the spirit of the holiday, and she's so very much hoping those things will end up being beautiful little additions to their celebration instead of consolations to their disappointment.

Tomorrow's gift includes a basket filled with Quinn's favorite lotions and shampoo and gift cards for manicures and spa days. It will either serve to pamper the mother of her child or help to sooth her heartbroken wife.

On Tuesday morning, Rachel is right next to Quinn at the clinic. Doctor Klein pops her head in very briefly right after Quinn has her blood drawn to ask how she's feeling and if she's noticed any cramping or spotting. Quinn assure her that she hasn't, so Doctor Klein asks, "Do you have any other concerns at this point?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No. Not right now."

"Actually," Rachel interjects, licking her lips, "I have...one question." It's been on her mind since her birthday. "You...um...you said no strenuous activities for a week. What about...sex?"

"Rachel," Quinn hisses, cheeks quickly pinkening.

"It's a valid question," Rachel insists, turning to her wife. "Especially after...Sunday," she reminds Quinn with a pointed look.

"It's fine," Doctor Klein promises with a chuckle. "The week is technically up anyway, so you can feel free to resume intimate relations if you haven't already. Just try to avoid any complicated acrobatics in the bedroom," she warns, giving them a wink.

"Oh, my God," Quinn mutters under her breath, covering her red face with her hands.

Rachel pats Quinn's thigh supportively. "We'll stay very non-acrobatic," she assures their doctor, ignoring Quinn's embarrassed little whimper. Her wife might still feel self-conscious talking about sex in public, but Rachel has no issue asking their doctor what's safe and what isn't. Someone has to, especially when Quinn already jumped the gun slightly in regards to their _intimate relations_.

After making sure they don't have any other questions, Doctor Klein informs them that the test results will take an hour or two. "We'll call you as soon as we have them," she promises, and Rachel nearly cries because she wants to know _right now_.

"I can't believe they can't put a rush on those results," she grumbles when they finally step out of the clinic. "They certainly managed to get all the other ones back quickly enough."

Quinn sighs, tugging on her gloves. "If by quickly, you mean later in the afternoon. The only results they rushed were the ones before your trigger shot, and that was because it was time sensitive."

"And this isn't?" Rachel challenges incredulously, throwing out her hands. "This is…it's life altering, Quinn!"

Quinn chuckles a little, shaking her head as she reaches for Rachel's hand. "It's a pregnancy test, Rachel. Thousands of women have them done every day. I think we can manage to wait a few more hours."

"How are you staying so calm about this?" Rachel asks in bewilderment. She feels like she's going to vibrate right out of her skin until she knows one way or another, and she's not even the one who's potentially pregnant right now.

"I just really feel like it'll be positive," Quinn confesses, pressing her free hand to her belly as they start to walk along the sidewalk.

Rachel considers that as she studies her wife's serene expression. Quinn has remained incredibly unruffled through all of this. Rachel has been attributing it to her unwavering desire to become a mother, and while she knows that's part of it, there has been something indescribably different about Quinn's demeanor in the last week and half—like she somehow instinctively _knows_ that she's pregnant. "Is this mother's intuition?" she wonders.

Quinn smiles widely as she glances at Rachel. "Maybe."

Rachel nods thoughtfully, not willing to completely rule it out. She's read that some women just seem to have a sixth sense about these things, and well—Rachel can hardly discount a sixth sense. "Did you feel this way with Beth?"

Quinn's expression wavers just a little, and she sighs again. "I didn't _want_ that test to be positive," she acknowledges regretfully, "but yeah, I knew it would be. I mean, I was late too, so I knew, but…I remember feeling kind of weird for weeks before that." She shrugs, smiling ruefully. "But I was also dealing with the guilt of cheating on my boyfriend at the time."

"So you don't really know if this is the same," Rachel concludes.

Quinn tugs them to a stop, shifting to stand in front of Rachel. "It's not the same," she admits. "It's completely different in all the best ways. Last time, I had to sneak off to Findlay and steal a pregnancy test from a mom-and-pop drug store, pee on a stick in the bathroom of a gas station, and wait alone for the plus sign to show up. This time, I'm waiting with you, and we'll find out the results _together_."

"Together," Rachel repeats, resolving to (attempt to) be as patient as Quinn.

She's only moderately successful. She spends the next three hours bouncing around their apartment finding things to distract herself with. Re-alphabetizing her music collection, check. Cleaning Oliver's food dishes and litter box, check. Dusting her Tony and Drama Desk awards, check. Cleaning the bathroom—well, that can wait.

She's in the middle of scrolling through the new releases on their Netflix account in the hopes of finding something to occupy her time when Quinn's phone rings. Rachel practically throws the remote control across the living room in her haste to jump off the sofa and sprint to the phone. Quinn, who'd been in the kitchen making lunch, beats her there by seconds, and they share a nervous glance before Quinn snatches up the phone and puts it on speaker, answering with a breathless, "Hello."

" _Hello, Quinn. This is Doctor Klein_." Rachel's stomach flips, because their doctor rarely calls them directly. They're used to hearing from Hayley with these phone calls. " _Is Rachel there with you?"_

"I am," Rachel confirms with a suddenly dry mouth.

" _Good. I have the results of your beta test._ "

Quinn reaches for Rachel's hand, clasping it tightly as she holds Rachel's gaze. "Go ahead," she urges. "We're ready."

" _It's positive_ ," Doctor Klein informs them—at least, that's what Rachel thinks she hears over the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Quinn's joyful gasp of and the happy tears glistening in her eyes tell Rachel that she heard exactly right. " _You'll need to come back in on Friday to make sure your levels are rising the way they should be,_ " their doctor is quick to caution, " _but right now, everything indicates that you're pregnant_."

"Thank you," Quinn chokes out through her tears, squeezing Rachel's hand. "Thank you so much."

A happy chuckle sounds on the other end of the phone. " _You're welcome. This is my very favorite kind of phone call to make_ ," she tells them happily. " _I'll see you both on Friday_."

When the call disconnects, Quinn immediately drops the phone, smiling tearfully. "I'm pregnant," she repeats, hazel eyes glistening with every beautiful shade of green and gold, and Rachel feels the power of those words race through her like an electric shock.

Her eyes fall to Quinn's stomach with the full knowledge that their baby is in there—that all of Quinn's instincts had proven correct and nine months from now they'll be moms. "Oh, my God," she whispers. "Oh, my God," she repeats stupidly, meeting Quinn's eyes again. "Quinn. You're," she trails off, feeling her throat seize over the tiny, hiccupping sob that pushes its way out. "We're… Baby…?"

Argh! Why aren't her words working?

Quinn laughs joyfully, nodding as she pulls Rachel's hand up to her belly and holds it there. "We're having a baby," she confirms, grinning widely.

A baby. Right there. Under her palm.

"A baby,' Rachel repeats in awe. _Her_ baby. In one try. "You really are ridiculously fertile," comes spilling out of her mouth.

Another laugh bubbles out of Quinn, and she nods happily. "So are you, apparently," she points out.

Rachel grins like an idiot. "I guess I am." Because that's her baby in there. _Their_ baby.

"I told you I had a really good feeling," Quinn murmurs, lifting her free hand to Rachel's cheek.

Tears spring to Rachel's eyes, and she nods. "You did. I'm going to have to listen to your good feelings more often."

"Yeah, you really are," Quinn agrees softly, and then her lips are covering Rachel's, and Rachel—oh, she's never been more in love with Quinn!

Her hand reluctantly abandons Quinn's belly, but only because she needs to be holding Quinn, and she wraps her arms around her wife and kisses her with all of the love and joy in her heart right now. When their lips finally part, Quinn smiles down at her through glistening eyes. "Are you still scared?" she asks softly.

"Terrified," Rachel admits honestly—now more than ever, knowing that they really will be welcoming a child into their life who will be completely dependent on them for the next eighteen years. "But so very happy. I love you so much, Quinn. And I'm already so in love with our baby," she realizes, feeling her world somehow expand infinitely at the same moment it shrinks down to the two— _three_ —people in this room.

"That's everything I've wanted to hear," Quinn tells her through happy tears. "I love you, Rachel. And our baby," she adds with a watery grin before leaning in to kiss Rachel again.

Rachel closes her eyes and gives herself over to the incredible moment. She knows they still have to pass the second test on Friday—and it's still so incredibly early in the pregnancy and anything could happen—but Quinn's good feeling hasn't been wrong yet, and Rachel is going to try her very best to listen to it. She suspects it won't stop her from worrying about every little thing for the next nine months, but she already knows that she's going to do everything in her power to make sure that she and Quinn bring their baby safely into the world.

Right now, though, she's going to keep on holding her family in her arms because it feels absolutely perfect.


End file.
